


Crossfire

by citsiurtlanu



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man Noir, Marvel
Genre: Action/Adventure, Animal Transformation, Cap-Iron Man Big Bang 2012, Community: cap_ironman, M/M, Sabretooths!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citsiurtlanu/pseuds/citsiurtlanu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though both the war and his days of adventuring for <i>Marvels</i> are over, Tony Stark is still looking for a cure to his failing heart.  When Nick Fury asks him and Captain America to investigate a newly discovered world dubbed the Savage Land, Tony jumps at the chance, hoping to find something - anything - that'll fix him.  But once Tony finds that something, he discovers that it comes at the cost of Steve's humanity - leaving Tony to struggle to turn him back before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossfire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [cap_ironman](http://cap-ironman.livejournal.com/)'s 2012 big bang! The LJ version of this fic is right over here: <http://ashei.livejournal.com/902.html>
> 
> This fic is primarily Noir-verse and takes place several years after the events of Iron Man Noir, though there are also a handful of 616 and MCU references thrown in here and there. That said, I wouldn't say Noir knowledge is necessary - basically all you need to know is that Tony's heart is damaged and he used to go exploring for magical relics to find a cure while documenting his adventures in a magazine called _Marvels_.
> 
> Special super thanks to my awesome beta [eschatologies](http://eschatologies.livejournal.com/), who was wonderful and perfect and found everything I'd missed, and my two amazeballs artists, [angelicfoodcake](http://angelicfoodcake.livejournal.com/) and [makowe-pola](http://makowe-pola.livejournal.com/)!
> 
> You can find angelicfoodcake's art [here](http://angelicfoodcake.livejournal.com/78962.html) and makowe-pola's art [here](http://drzwi-do-szafy.tumblr.com/post/33892678313)! THEY'RE LOVELY, SO GIVE THEM LOVE. ALL THE LOVE. <3

**Prologue**

War hero. Super soldier. Military man.

They were, to be honest, all descriptions Tony didn’t give a shit about. War hero? Please. Maybe it’d be impressive if Tony weren’t a war hero too, but he _was_ , so what was there to be impressed about? And super soldier? Absolutely ridiculous. Tony had security clearance. He could access the files on Project: Rebirth. And he knew that everything _super_ came out of a test tube and some vita rays.

Finally, military man. This was the most troubling, because Tony had had his fair share of run-ins with military lackeys during the War. But he was Iron Man, and in the end, he could still go off and do whatever the hell he wanted. But _this_. They wanted to pair him up with _Captain America_ , the biggest military lackey of them all. And Tony didn’t like it.

“I could still ditch you and do this alone,” he announced to the empty room.

Well, almost empty. Sitting at the far end of the table was the Star-Spangled Man himself, various files and papers strewn on the table around him. His lips twitched slightly as he looked up at Tony, raising an eyebrow. “And I could ditch you,” he said. “But we’re under Fury’s orders. Perfectly reasonable orders, I might add. You can’t go down there alone.”

And that, Tony supposed, was where they differed, because Tony was quite sure he could explore the Savage Land on his own. Hell, he’d been the leading man for _Marvels_ for years, and he was still very much in one piece. He didn’t need some guy, much less one who regularly donned a flag-colored outfit with a big ol’ star on it, telling him what to do. “Wish I could,” he groused.

It’d all been quite clever of Fury, really. He’d dangled the prospect of a new, post-war adventure in front of Tony’s nose, going on and on about how the Savage Land was a whole new world filled with undiscovered creatures, resources, and, most importantly, possibly relics of a magical sort, because Nick Fury was an asshole who had somehow figured out the truth about Tony’s incurable heart condition and was now playing it up as much as he could, damn him. _Get your ass out there and explore_ , he’d said. _We’ll take you there, and then you can do whatever the hell you want._ The caveat? The Savage Land was such an unknown that Fury—and by extension, S.H.I.E.L.D.—wanted a nice, long report about what he found. And they wanted one Steve Rogers to accompany him.

“I’m not sure why you think this is so awful,” Rogers said, glancing up at him with a frown. “I’m capable of handling myself. I’m not going to get us into trouble.”

“Exactly,” Tony said. “Trouble is the last thing we’re going to get into. And that’s boring.”

“Helping our country isn’t boring,” Rogers replied, because apparently he was the biggest Boy Scout ever, Jesus. “We’re going to find new information about this place. And we’ll learn a lot.” He held up one of the papers, waving it at him. “Stark, you do realize preliminary reports show that there are _sabretooths_ in the area? And dinosaurs? They’re supposed to be extinct!”

Tony snorted. “Well, gee,” he said. “What a surprise. Thank you for enlightening me, because I have never heard that before in my entire life. But I don’t care about big cats or reptiles.”

“So what _do_ you care about?”

Tony just swiveled his chair away, not answering. There was only one reason he was here, really. It was the same reason he’d gone to the British Honduras or Atlantis or any of those other places: that faintest glimmer of hope that somewhere, somehow, he’d find a cure for his broken heart.

But Fury, for all his conniving and irritating ability to know everything about everyone, had apparently decided not to share this information with Rogers, and so Tony sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up now. Let him be clueless.

From behind him, he could hear Rogers sigh, and then he heard the rustling of paper, like maybe he was putting all of the documents back in their folders. “It’s late,” Rogers said. “We’ll be there tomorrow morning. I suggest you get some rest, because it’s going to be a long week.”

“Yes, mother,” Tony replied, staring out the window of the airship as he listened to Rogers walk off. One week. Seven days in which the airship would come every day at noon and see if they were ready to be picked back up, because the Savage Land was in the middle of goddamned _Antarctica_ and none of their communication devices worked down here. He glanced down at his chest, idly tapping at the metal plate that he knew was there. “You can hang on for seven days, can’t you?” he asked.

Unsurprisingly, his heart had no answer for him.

**Day One**

The airship was gone, lifted back up into the skies where it would… well, Tony wasn’t sure. Fury had promised them that every day for seven days, the airship would return to this spot at noon and pick them up if they were here. And considering that his heart was running on a battery, if after seven days they were a no-show, then it would probably be safe to assume that they were dead.

Tony wasn’t anticipating that, though. Sure, maybe he’d never fought a sabretooth before, but he was certain he’d be able to manage—he’d brought his gauntlets along, and he’d never met an animal that couldn’t be quelled with a repulsor blast in the face. Of course, if he used the gauntlets too much or too hard, then he’d have to hook them up to his heart battery to recharge them, and there’d be no way he could last the whole week… but that was a problem he’d deal with once he got there. _If_ he got there.

“So here we are,” he said, looking around. Foliage as far as the eye could see, though there were some mountains in the distance, and a river cutting its way through the terrain a few miles away. If he looked carefully, he was pretty sure he could make out the dinosaurs Rogers had apparently read about in the briefing. God. He couldn’t believe it. _Dinosaurs_. And if dinosaurs were here, if they could somehow exist in this land out of time… then surely something magical could be here too. He just had to find it.

“Here we are,” Rogers agreed. Tony turned to watch as Rogers brought out what looked like a sparse map of the area with various squiggles covering it, kneeling down to lay it flat on the ground. “I mapped a potential route we could take. It’s not exact because there aren’t really paths, just these rough ideas of where the mountains and forests are, but I think if we go in an outward spiral like this, we can see a lot of things but still be able to return to the airship point pretty quickly. What do you think?”

Tony looked at the map, then back at Rogers. God. “Boy Scout doesn’t even begin to describe you,” he said. He brought out one of his own toys, a tracking device he’d designed years ago but hadn’t had a chance to use until now—wars tended to take up a lot of his time. “I was thinking we’d use this instead.”

Rogers frowned, squinting at it. “What is it?”

“Power detector,” Tony replied, flipping a switch and turning it to look at the display. “It can track different types of power. Electric, magnetic, nuclear… you name it. It’s bound to show us something more interesting than just wandering around aimlessly.”

“It’s not aimless—” Rogers began, but Tony was already walking off, heading down the small hill they’d been standing at the top of. “Stark—”

Tony raised one hand and waved at him. Either the shield boy could follow or he could not—hopefully he wouldn’t, but Tony’s hopes weren’t very high. How could someone who so embodied the American spirit be so annoying?

“Oh, I see,” Rogers said irritably as he caught up to him. Funny. The man always seemed so cheerful and polite in the public eye, but it seemed like Tony had a gift for getting under his skin. Well, good. “So you’re in charge of this expedition now, is that it? Did you even read the briefings Fury gave us?”

“Of course I did,” Tony said. He’d gone through them all before they’d even left, and that had been all he’d needed to do. “Rogers, maybe your precious, idealistic mind can’t handle it, but S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t send us out here so we could have a field trip for fun. They’re looking for something, and they’re using us to get it.”

To his credit, Rogers didn’t look particularly put off by Tony’s observation. Maybe he’d seen enough of the War to know this already. “So why are you here, if you know this?”

“Because I’m looking for something too.” And Tony would just as rather do this all alone, but Fury was providing the means—and with his time running out, he could hardly afford to snub him.

“Which is?”

“Classified.”

Rogers sighed. “And here I thought we would get to be partners,” he muttered.

Tony almost, almost felt bad about this, but ultimately it was inconsequential. Rogers didn’t need to know about his ailing heart, and Tony didn’t _want_ Rogers to know. He could only imagine his reaction at finding out that Tony didn’t have very much longer to live, despite the constant recharging he did. Sooner or later, it wouldn’t be enough. And sooner or later, he’d drop dead. He’d already exhausted much of the known sources of magic he’d gotten his hands on, and this Savage Land was one of his last hopes.

“You can’t always get what you want,” he said.

Rogers didn’t say anything to that, and for the next few hours, they continued to meander through the foliage, Tony occasionally checking the readings on his meter as Rogers rolled his eyes and made disapproving sounds under his breath. The Savage Land was a strange place, but it was still _Earth_. There were the occasional odd magnetic field readings that upon closer inspection were completely explainable by non-supernatural reasons, and other strange readings that turned out to be volcanic geysers or something like that—as reckless as Tony was, he had enough sense to stay away from _those_.

All in all, not exactly the stronghold of magic he’d hoped for.

But that was okay. It was only the first day, and they still had time to find _something_ —even though this was different from his other missions, where he already knew what the hell he was looking for, he still had hope that there _was_ something here. He just needed to locate it first.

They stopped for the night in a small cave, where Rogers set up a little fire and started to look through a notepad he was carrying. Unsurprisingly, he’d taken notes about the various fauna and animals and such they’d seen today, which Tony hadn’t thought to do. Well, whatever. His memory was good enough, and if Rogers was doing it, why did Tony need to?

“You should get some sleep,” Rogers said, and Tony started, realizing he’d been staring.

He bristled. “And what, you shouldn’t?” Was it bad that Rogers set him off so easily? Probably. But whose fault was that? If everyone had just let him go treasure-hunting on his own like he wanted, then he wouldn’t have had anyone to get annoyed at.

And maybe, just maybe, Tony was a little bit jealous. He was still young, still healthy, except for the very major problem that was his heart, ticking ever so closer to an end that would come sooner rather than later—his one, single flaw. But here was Steve Rogers, the War’s other all-American hero, and he was fit as a fiddle and as perfect as anyone could be. And now—well. Now _Tony_ had to get some sleep and Rogers didn’t?

“I’m going to stay up and keep watch.” Rogers glanced up from his notepad, quirking an eyebrow. “I know _Marvels_ never showed any of that boring stuff, but you guys kept watch at night, didn’t you? I’m surprised you’re still in one piece otherwise.”

Tony blinked, momentarily distracted. “ _Marvels_? You’ve read _Marvels_?”

“Sure I have.” Rogers turned his attention back to the notepad, scribbling something down. Probably more notes. “Used to be a big fan.”

“But not anymore.”

“I grew up.”

Tony sighed. Rogers’ response didn’t tell him anything, but he wasn’t in the mood to press tonight. “Wake me up when it’s my turn to keep guard, then.” Rogers nodded, and Tony rolled out his sleeping bag, curling up inside it before discreetly checking the charge on his heart. 93%. So far, so good. If the rest of the week was as eventless as today, then he was in no danger of running out of power. Whether or not that was particularly desirable was another question entirely, but Tony had little choice but to roll with it.

He missed Rhodey. He missed Pepper. Most of all, he missed Jarvis. But they were all back in civilization doing one thing or another, helping to rebuild the world after war had ravaged it. He wondered if Rogers wanted to be back home, too. Tony sure did—but if he couldn’t find a cure for his heart here, then he wouldn’t be able to be _anywhere_.

Damn his broken body. But he’d deal with it, one way or another. Either he’d find a cure, or he’d die trying.

After all, what other choice did he have?

**Day Two**

On the second day, Tony found what he was looking for.

Or at the very least, he was pretty sure he’d found _something_ promising.

They’d left that morning, making sure to hide the evidence that indicated that they’d stayed there that night—while they’d yet to encounter anyone else who might be tracking them for whatever reason, it was best not to take any chances. From there, they’d bickered about which direction to go, because Rogers was apparently wary of perfectly good technology and believed in—Tony didn’t even know. Aimless exploring, maybe? But Tony had won the argument, which was for the better, because it was all paying off now.

“There’s something under here,” he announced sometime past noon, stopping in the middle of an unremarkable grove.

Rogers frowned, looking around. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“Of course you don’t,” Tony said, waving his hand. Rogers bristled, but Tony ignored it. “My readings are picking up a lot of empty space below. There’s something down there.”

The other man’s frown only deepened as he knelt down, as though that would somehow make him see what Tony was seeing. “Empty space could mean a lot of things,” he said. “It could just be an underground spring. Or maybe lava flows. I’m not digging a hole so we can fall into lava.”

“It’s not a heat reading, so it’s not lava,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes. “And I’m not asking you to dig any holes.” Wouldn’t that be hilarious, though? Captain America with a shovel. “There’s something else I’m picking up.” He wandered over to a large rock nearby, brushing his fingers against it. “Look.”

Rogers followed him, squinting at the rock. After a moment, it was clear he was seeing what Tony was, because he asked, “Is this writing?”

Tony nodded, eyes sweeping over the strange markings, faded with time. “I think so. It’s not a language I’m familiar with, but from what I can tell, this marks the entrance.”

Rogers looked contemplative. Then he looked troubled. “That means there are people here.”

“That means there are creatures capable of written language here,” Tony said. “There’s a difference. Anyway, I don’t think it matters. I’m not picking up on anything of significant mass that seems to be alive below us, so even if there were people here once, they’re gone now.” But if they’d ever owned anything magical… then maybe that was still here.

“Okay,” Rogers said. He touched the markings on the rock again, continuing, “So how do we get in?”

Tony tapped on the rock idly, examining what looked like a seam running around it. “We push.”

So they pushed. As it turned out, someone had sliced the rock into two, and pushing the front half away revealed a hole in the back half, which led… down. It was dark enough that he couldn’t tell how deep it went—for all he knew, it was either three feet deep or three miles—but he was unfazed. After another moment of peering into it, Tony brought out a length of rope from his pack, tossing one end down before offering the other end to Rogers. “You strong enough to support my weight on this?”

“Yeah,” Rogers said.

That was enough for Tony. Without further ado, he slithered down the rope, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for anything suspicious, but besides the light coming in from above and the shadow from Rogers’ head on him, there wasn’t much to see. Not too long after, his feet touched the ground, and he felt around blindly for a moment, making sure everything seemed solid. “I’m in,” he called, bringing out his flashlight and shining it up at Rogers. “Can you see me?”

Rogers nodded from above. “I’m going to tie the rope around the rock and then come down. Is that okay?”

Tony pointed the flashlight in various directions around him. They seemed to be at the start of a tunnel, but he didn’t have enough light to tell how far it went. Still, it seemed to be safe, and he had his gauntlets if they ran into any trouble. “Yeah,” he said.

A moment later, Rogers was standing beside him, shield in one hand and a flashlight of his own in another. “I hope you know what you’re looking for,” he said as he started forward, Tony trailing after him.

_That makes two of us_ , he thought. Nonetheless, he kept quiet on that front, shining his flashlight around as they headed down the tunnel, their breathing loud in the otherwise quiet space. It was dark and cool and utterly ordinary in every way, the walls unblemished and the floor looking as though no one had used it for ages—or ever, really.

Still, Tony had a _feeling_ about this place.

After some time, the tunnel seemed to widen, and Tony realized they were standing at the edge of… of something. Something magnificent. “Rogers,” he breathed.

“I see it,” Rogers replied.

It looked like it might have once been a small city—albeit one that hadn’t made it very far in architectural advances—though now it’d fallen into disrepair, the crude structures crumpled and broken. At least, that was what the small amount that was actually illuminated by their flashlights looked like, anyway. “An underground city,” Tony said, barely able to contain the glee in his voice. “Can you believe it? There’s got to be something interesting here.”

“Maybe,” Rogers conceded, though he didn’t sound nearly as excited as Tony felt. “Personally, I’m wondering why the city is empty. You sure it’s a good idea to just waltz on in?”

“Come on, Rogers,” Tony said, shining the flashlight around until he found something that looked like a road leading downward and started forward to follow it. “We’re on an exploration. In case you’ve forgotten, that means we should be _exploring_. Where’s your sense of adventure? Besides, think of all the notes you’ll get to take. Fury’ll want to kiss you once you show him all the things you’ve learned.”

Rogers snorted from behind him, and from the sound of his footsteps, Tony could tell he was following. “Somehow I doubt that,” he said. “I’m not sure that I’d want a kiss from Nick.”

“‘Nick’?” Tony repeated, baffled. “Since when are you two on a first-name basis?” He sure wasn’t about to call Fury “Nick” anytime soon. He suspected Fury felt similarly.

“We’re very close,” Rogers replied, which wasn’t much of an answer. “Hey. Look at this.” He stopped, the beam of his flashlight illuminating one of the walls of the building… well, if it could be called a building, anyway. It sort of resembled an extraordinarily crude igloo made out of dirt more than anything. “More markings.”

Tony added his light to the wall as well, stepping closer. “Well,” he said. “Will you look at that.” It wasn’t the same as the markings from the rock they’d seen earlier—these were more elaborate, even if in the grand scheme of things Tony would consider them to be rather primitive. “What do you think?” They resembled prehistoric cave paintings, but instead of bison and horses, these looked like… well, sabretooths. He moved his flashlight around, following the progression of drawings. First there were stick figures chasing the sabretooths, then stick figures running away from the sabretooths, then a bunch of dead stick figures. Ouch.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Rogers sighed, sounding just dreamy enough for Tony to roll his eyes. Wasn’t like Rogers could see him in the dark, anyway. He kept on following the mural, Tony trailing behind him. “It seems like they worshipped the sabretooths.”

Tony considered it. Yeah, he could buy that, based on the next few drawings. “I guess they thought intentionally sacrificing things to them was better than getting mauled.”

For the next few hours, they made their way through the ruins, their flashlights the only things illuminating the place as they took everything in, Rogers recording their findings with what Tony personally thought was an overblown eagerness—had the man never visited an architectural site before? He’d probably faint from excitement if Tony ever took him to the Cave of Altamira.

Not that Tony was particularly keen on doing so, of course. The last time he’d gone looking for magical artifacts there, a feral bison had tried its damndest to gore him to death.

They passed by more drawings as they headed deeper into the city, but much of them were similar to ones they’d already seen before, of harried humans and somewhat majestic big cats. Apparently, whoever had lived here really had a thing for sabretooths—even if personally, Tony would have chosen to worship a dinosaur. Who wouldn’t?

Every now and then, he checked his power detector to see if maybe, just maybe, it was picking up on anything. But since they’d dropped down into the hole, it’d been behaving strangely—whether it was because they were underground now or because of something else, Tony didn’t know. Hopefully it was because of something else. Something magical. But time would tell.

Eventually, Rogers came to a stop, and Tony only narrowly avoided bumping into him. “We should stop for the night,” he said. “Or at least, I think it’s night.” He brought his wrist up, looking at his watch before frowning. “Hmm.”

“What’s wrong?”

Rogers tapped at the watch’s face. “It’s not working right,” he said. “It’s stuck at 1:23.”

Huh. So it wasn’t just Tony with the faulty electronics, then. “Don’t worry about it. My stuff is messed up, too.” At least his heart was still working.

The widening of Rogers’ eyes was visible even in the dim light. “You mean, we’re stuck down here in the dark with compromised equipment? Tony, we have to get back up to the surface again.” He cursed softly, which was surprising because Tony was pretty sure he’d never heard Rogers curse before. “It’ll take us most of tomorrow to make it back…”

“Stop fretting,” Tony interrupted before Rogers could get on a roll. “Look, it’s okay. We know our way back. Besides, we haven’t even explored the whole place yet—”

“And we shouldn’t, because we’re in an awful position where we can’t even see anyone sneaking up to us—”

“—Which doesn’t even _matter_ , because no one is _here_ —”

They both broke off, huffing. Tony glared at him, then continued stubbornly, “I’m not ready to leave yet.”

Rogers quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why? Because you’re still looking for your classified toy?”

“That’s right.”

Rogers just sighed at this, turning away into one of the igloo-things. He had to hunch over to get inside, which was, honestly, an image Tony had to snigger at. Whoever used to live here must have been pretty short. “Are you going to mope now?” Tony asked his retreating figure.

There was a spark of light as Rogers brought out his lighter, making a little fire inside the igloo, which apparently had a fire pit inside. “I’m stopping for the night,” he replied.

Tony considered it for a moment, then ducked into the same igloo as Rogers, turning his flashlight off. Better not to risk getting separated, since outside of the igloo it was completely dark. “Okay,” he said. “But we’re going to keep on exploring tomorrow.”

Rogers made a non-committal grunting sound in response, bringing out his notepad again and writing more things down—presumably about the things they’d seen today, because he was a note-taking machine. Tony, meanwhile, brought out his sleeping bag, slithering into it and checking his heart monitor beneath the metal plating. 81%. Nothing to worry about. “Don’t tell me you’re going to keep guard again,” he said. “There’s nothing here.”

“Maybe,” Rogers replied lightly, eyes on the notepad. “Go to sleep.”

Tony shrugged to himself. Well, if Rogers wanted to stay up for no reason, that was his prerogative. But Tony was going to sleep. “Good night,” he said.

“Night,” Rogers said right back, and damn him, he didn’t sound tired at all.

Tony shut his eyes and tried not to dream of magical relics.

**Day Three**

“Wake up.”

Tony groaned, lashes fluttering as he blearily opened his eyes. It was dark… still nighttime, then. No need to wake up. He rolled over, letting his eyes close again. “Too early.”

“ _Wake up._ ”

This time, the words were accompanied by a gentle shake of his shoulder, and Tony groaned again, blinking in the darkness. “What?” he asked irritably. “Rogers, is that you? Go to sleep.”

“Shh,” the person said, sounding annoyed enough that Tony could tell it was Rogers for sure. “Stark, there’s something outside.”

Tony sat up at this, brain revving into gear. “What do you mean, something outside?” he replied, automatically lowering his voice. “You mean people?” He really hoped Rogers didn’t mean people. Because that would be bad.

Rogers exhaled. “No,” he said, and Tony sighed in relief before the other man continued, “I think it’s a sabretooth.”

Oh. _Oh_. That wasn’t good. Possibly worse than people, maybe. He hadn’t actually fought any sabretooths yet, so he had no idea how bad they were. But they were probably pretty bad. “Okay. What makes you say that?”

“I can hear it,” Rogers whispered. “It’s breathing. Listen.”

Tony fell silent, trying to hear it. Once he managed to filter out the sounds of their own breathing, yeah, it was pretty loud and clear—there was sort of a deep, throaty element to it, which might have been nice in an entirely different context but was mainly terrifying now. “Shit,” he murmured. “Do you think it’s heard us by now? Scratch that, of course it’s heard us.” It was probably listening to him right now, and wasn’t _that_ creepy? “Why isn’t it attacking?”

Rogers was silent for a moment, probably thinking about it. “I don’t think it can fit in here,” he said at last.

Well, that was certainly reassuring. “So we’re trapped.”

“Unless we fight our way out.”

Hmm. Well, Tony was always up for a good fight. Of course, most of his fights were in well-lit, open spaces. Or just _lit_. This place was the opposite of that, and he wasn’t sure how his gauntlets would do in such an enclosed area. Then again, that just meant now was the best time to find out. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s fight. How hard can it be? It’s just a cat.”

“Famous last words,” Rogers muttered.

Tony rolled his eyes, even though Rogers couldn’t see, then pulled his gauntlets on, securing them in the darkness. “Or we could just stay here for a few more days and hope it goes away on its own. Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait!” Rogers hissed, managing to find his arm and grabbing onto it. “What are you thinking? We need a plan!”

“Uh, duh,” Tony replied. “I already have one. It’s called ‘shooting a repulsor blast straight into its big ugly face’. You won’t have to do a thing.”

Rogers sighed. Even in the dark, Tony could tell how put-upon he was. “Stark. Tell me something. Do you know where its ‘big ugly face’ is?”

Tony blinked. Then he frowned. “No,” he admitted.

“Then sit down.”

He pouted but complied after a moment, grumbling. “Killjoy.”

“That’s me,” Rogers replied. There was a rustling sound as Rogers seemed to be searching through his pack for something, though it was too dark for Tony to really know for sure. Then Rogers found it—whatever it was—and continued, “Okay. I’m going to turn on the flashlight, and then I’m going to throw it outside. If the sabretooth goes after it, hit it in the face. I’ll get out and attack it from behind. Got it?”

“You get out and do all the fun stuff while I shoot things from my hidey hole,” Tony said. “Yes. Got it.”

“You shoot its big ugly face from the hidey hole,” Rogers clarified. Tony wondered if he was smiling right now. Too bad it was dark. “Okay. Let’s go.”

A second later, a beam of light was rolling along the ground, from their igloo-thing out onto the road. In the next second, something massive pounced onto it, and Rogers rushed past him, heading into the street. “Go!” he shouted.

Tony brought his hands up, aimed, and fired—

—Then watched as the sabretooth merely shook its head, looking no worse for the wear.

“Shit,” he said. “Rogers?”

“On it,” came Rogers’ voice, and then there was a loud thump and the sound of an extremely pained roar; in the wild light of the flashlight, Tony could see the glint of the shield as it rammed into the cat’s body. “Try again!”

Tony brought up his hands once more, but with the sabretooth moving around so much and the limited space he had from his position inside the igloo, he couldn’t get a clear shot. “Dammit,” he muttered, considering his options for a moment before ducking his head and running out, leaving the safety of the igloo. “To your left!” he called, and shot again as Rogers somersaulted away.

The sabretooth abruptly stopped squirming, then turned, the flashlight laying on the ground in such a way that it silhouetted the cat from the back and revealing Tony standing there, making him feel very much like a deer caught in the headlights. Well, this was great, just great. Tony brought the gauntlets up again, aiming toward the face, but if it hadn’t worked before, why would it work now?

Then Rogers jumped in, kicked the flashlight aside, and the world was plunged into darkness again.

On instinct, Tony blindly leapt to one side at the same time the sabretooth leapt forward, shooting his repulsor blasts again and praying Rogers wasn’t in his line of fire. There was a whooshing sound as Rogers presumably flung his shield, then a thud and a growl as it made contact. “It’s not going down,” he yelled, firing again even though he could barely see where it was. “Got any ideas?”

“Yeah, I—”

Tony never heard the rest, though, because in the next instant, a thousand pounds of big cat bowled into him, knocking the wind right out of his body. Oh, shit. Oh, _shit_. He squirmed helplessly, and if a high-pitched yelp escaped his throat, well, could anyone really blame him?

Suddenly, there were sounds of a scuffle as Rogers did—something; it was too dark for Tony to really see, but it sounded like Rogers had jumped onto it from behind and was grappling with it. “Shoot it!” Rogers shouted.

“I’ll hit you!”

“You won’t. Go!”

So Tony fired again. In hindsight, this was probably an awful idea, because it caused the sabretooth to lash out, clawing blindly at his chest as Tony cried out in pain, automatically shooting again in response. “Rogers, fuck, for the love of God, get this thing off me—”

“I’m _trying_ —”

More blind scuffling. The sabretooth was clearly enraged by now, which was bad news for Tony, who was bleeding and in clear reach of its claws, but he tried fending it off anyway, blasting at its paws whenever it got too close. “Rogers—” he gasped again, wanting desperately to curl up into a bloody ball and pass out. Still, something in him kept him conscious, kept him fighting—how could he not? Rogers was trying so hard to help him; it’d do him no good to let him down now.

Another roar, then a strange clinking sound, and then—“Stark, shoot it now!”

Tony focused his eyes enough to see the shield propping the sabretooth’s mouth open partway, Rogers doing his best to keep it there as the beast thrashed and roared. Somehow, even with it writhing on top of him, Tony recognized a need for more power, and so he grappled quickly for the cables located in each gauntlet, opening his shirt and plugging them into his chest plate. From there, he managed to hold his arms up steady, shooting twin beams straight into its mouth with everything he had, lighting up the entire area as he did.

Then the light faded, and for several seconds, everything was quiet save for the sound of their panting. A moment later, the sabretooth made a terrible gurgling noise and collapsed right onto Tony, the sudden shift in weight forcing a strained whimper from his lips.

“Dammit,” Rogers breathed from somewhere above him, quickly scrambling off and laboriously shoving the cat’s body off him. “Stark. Tony. Are you okay?”

Tony wheezed heavily, trying to take inventory of all the injuries he’d just sustained. Okay. Okay. So he’d been slashed a few times by a giant cat, and he was pretty sure some of his ribs were cracked, if not broken. Great, really great. But he was alive, which was an improvement over being dead, so he supposed it could have been a lot worse. “I’ve been better,” he coughed out. “You?”

“I’m fine,” Rogers replied. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Tony nodded weakly—it wasn’t like he was in any condition to run off right now, anyway. Once Rogers disappeared, Tony took the opportunity to unplug the cables from his chest plate, stuffing them back into their compartments. He managed to finish just as Rogers came back, holding the flashlight in one hand. Tony groaned, turning his face away from the glare, only to be confronted with the sabretooth’s body. Jesus. “…Is it dead?” he asked.

Rogers hummed, leaning forward to investigate it. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “It’s dead.” He managed a shaky laugh, running his free hand through his hair. “Well, now we know what to do next time. Just get it to open its mouth wide somehow and shove a beam of light down its throat. Easy as pie.”

“It’s a repulsor blast,” Tony corrected, promptly coughing up some blood immediately afterward. God, it tasted awful. “Not… not a beam of light.”

Rogers turned the flashlight back at him, frowning. “You’re bleeding,” he said.

Tony reached up, batting his hand away. “Not right in the face,” he managed. “I’ll—I’ll be fine.”

“Let me be the judge of that. Can I pick you up?”

At this, Tony hesitated, debating whether he’d rather lose his dignity or continue to lay down next to a dead animal, then decided to hell with his dignity and nodded. In response, Rogers slid his hands underneath Tony’s body, hoisting him upward and carrying him back to their igloo. He laid him down afterward, movements surprisingly gentle as he shone the flashlight over his chest. “This looks bad,” he murmured softly. He set the flashlight down, then rummaged in his pack, bringing out something Tony recognized as the first-aid kit.

“Wait,” Tony said abruptly, realizing what was coming next. “There’s no need for that, is there?”

Rogers’ brow furrowed, and he worried the kit in his hands for a few moments, eyes on Tony’s stained shirt. “You’re bleeding,” he said again.

“It’s just a cut.” Tony tried to roll onto his side, away from Rogers’ gaze as he gritted his teeth in pain. God, this was stupid. He should just let Rogers take care of him, it was just—he didn’t want anyone to see the metal plate shielding his damaged heart. Not even Captain America.

“You were _gouged_ by a sabretooth, for God’s sake.”

Tony scowled at the floor, hand reaching up to clutch at his torso. Just how bad were his ribs? “I was cut,” he insisted. “Superficially. Go away.”

“I won’t go away,” Rogers said, and the next thing Tony knew, he was rolled onto his back again, Rogers reaching up to undo the buttons of his shirt. Tony tried batting his hands away, but it was no use—Tony was far too weak, especially after plugging the gauntlets into his chest plate, which yes, okay, was only supposed to be done in case of emergency because that charge was supposed to be for his _heart_ , but hello, that was an emergency. And anyway, Rogers had that glint in his eye that basically said _I do what I want and you can’t stop me_. Damn him.

The shirt came off. Instinctively, Tony reached up, trying to cover the metal plating over his heart, but Rogers moved his hand away. Though it was dark save for the flashlight, Tony could see Rogers’ eyes landing on the plate, seeming to contemplate it for a second before his gaze drifted away. To his credit, he didn’t say anything, instead starting to wipe the gouges clean. “Ow,” Tony said.

“Sorry,” Rogers replied, but he didn’t stop. “I don’t want to risk infection. It doesn’t look like its claws were poisonous, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

Tony just grunted in response, watching his hands as they worked. They were nice hands, he supposed. Big, too. He liked big hands. “You know what you’re doing.”

“You learn a lot of things when you’re in a war,” Rogers said softly. “Especially when you’re in the middle of nowhere with injured men.”

“I bet,” Tony murmured. It hurt too much to tilt his head up to watch Rogers, so he just gave up, relaxing back against the ground and trusting the other man to tend to him. After all, it wasn’t like he had a choice, and if he was really being honest with himself, well. It—it was kind of nice, having someone tending to him who didn’t seem to be bothered by his metal chest plate, unlike everybody else. For once, he didn’t have to hide what was, in the end, a major part of him. “Well, I’m grateful. Thanks.”

Rogers shook his head, uncapping an antibacterial ointment and starting to rub it over the injured area. “I’m just doing my duty,” he said. His gaze flickered up toward him as he managed the faintest of smiles. “Glad you didn’t ditch me yet?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Tony grumbled, not quite yet ready to make that sort of concession. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pain it caused him. Damn ribs. Damn chest. Damn giant cat.

“Stubborn,” Rogers murmured, but he kept on working on him in silence, bringing out a roll of gauze after a while and beginning to tape it over the gashes. “Almost done. How are you feeling now?”

Tony thought about it. He was still hurting, but he felt slightly cleaner, and Rogers’ hands had helped soothe him a little. “Better,” he admitted. He hesitated a moment, then added, “But I think my ribs are fractured.”

Rogers frowned down at his torso, looking as though he’d be able to see them through Tony’s skin if he just stared hard enough. Maybe he could. Did he have x-ray vision? No, that was Superman. Rogers was just Captain America. “I can’t tell,” Rogers said at last, and Tony had to try not to laugh, because that would be completely inappropriate and out of nowhere at the current moment. “But if they are, I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”

Tony pouted up at him. “Aren’t you supposed to bind them so they hurt less? I’m hurting. Bind me.”

To his surprise, Rogers shook his head. “I don’t want you catching pneumonia,” he said when Tony opened his mouth. “Just stay strong, okay? Hang on.” He turned away for a moment, rummaging in the first-aid kit before producing a white pill and poking it through Tony’s lips. “Swallow,” he continued, handing him a canteen. “It’s aspirin. I brought some along.”

Obediently, Tony took a swig—it was just water, not anything exciting, unfortunately—and swallowed. “I thought drugs didn’t work on you.”

“They don’t,” Rogers replied. “I brought them in case you needed them.”

Oh. Well, wasn’t that something? No wonder everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. was so fond of him. But he was still annoying! “Thanks,” he said anyway, because it seemed like the sort of thing he should be thankful for. He weakly pushed himself up onto one elbow then, looking Rogers over. He looked a bit battered, but otherwise okay. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Rogers tutted and promptly pushed him back down as gently as he could. “You can help me by getting some rest,” he said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

Come to think of it, Tony did feel kind of woozy, but staying put was boring. They still had a lot of exploring to do. “I don’t want another giant mutant cat with skin of steel to attack us while we’re here.”

“I’ll take care of it if it does,” Rogers assured him. He picked up one of Tony’s gauntlets, examining it. “This can’t be that hard to use, can it?”

Tony couldn’t tell if Rogers was joking or not, but he swiped ineffectually at it, trying to snatch it from the other man’s grasp. “Mine,” he said. He didn’t like sharing his toys.

Rogers rolled his eyes, but he set the gauntlet back down. Like he had any right to be exasperated! Tony would like to see how he reacted if he tried taking his shield. “Fine,” Rogers said. “If another giant mutant cat attacks us, it’s on you.” He peered out the entrance of the igloo-thing, even though it was pitch-dark outside. “I think we’ll be okay, though.”

Tony nodded, picking up the gauntlet and cuddling it to himself idly. Maybe Rogers was right. Maybe he should just get some rest now. “You’ll keep an eye out?” he asked.

Rogers’ gaze landed on the gauntlet, and for a moment, he looked dubious. Eventually, though, he nodded, pulling out a blanket and draping it over him. “Yeah,” he said. “Go to sleep. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Uh huh,” Tony replied absently, turning to one side and wincing as he curled up underneath the blanket. This was going to be a fun night. Or was it even night at all? It was probably the morning now. Well, the morning could go suck itself. “Don’t let me down, Rogers.” He took one more deep, searing breath, and then he was out like a light.

**Day Four**

“I was starting to wonder if you’d ever wake up.”

Tony frowned and blinked a few times, Rogers’ face swimming into view as his gaze focused. “Oh,” he said intelligently in response, because talking was hard right now. Geez, what had happened? He was hurting and tired and sluggish and he didn’t like any of it one bit.

Oh, right. He’d gotten into a fight with a damned sabretooth.

“Shit,” he said. “How long was I out?”

Rogers shrugged. It looked like he’d started a fire and was heating… something. “I stayed up for several hours after you passed out,” he told him. “Then I slept for a while, and then I woke up again and you were still sleeping. I was seriously considering just lugging you out of here myself.”

Tony frowned again. He’d been out that long? What a waste of time. They’d have to make up for it somehow. “Well, I’m up now. So what’s for breakfast?”

A bowl of something was pushed into his face; Tony managed to sit up on one elbow and take it, peering into it doubtfully. “Chicken and rice,” Rogers said. “And I’m heating water for instant coffee.”

“Right… ‘chicken’,” Tony said, poking at it with a fork before reluctantly beginning to eat. God, he really hated army food sometimes. Once they got back, he was going to crash the first diner they saw and order a hamburger and a milkshake.

Rogers poured a mug of hot water, then added the instant coffee mix, stirring before sliding it to Tony’s side. “I like it,” he offered.

Tony snorted, picking up the coffee and taking a deep swig. “You’re Captain America. You like everything.”

“And you’re very hard to please,” Rogers replied. “But don’t worry. We should be back on the airship by tomorrow, and then you can eat whatever you want.”

“Wait, what?” Tony sputtered, nearly spitting out his coffee. “What do you mean, tomorrow? It’s only the fourth day, isn’t it? We have three more days before the airship stops coming for us.”

Rogers raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip from his own mug. “You have gashes on your chest and at least one fractured rib, Tony. That sort of thing warrants medical attention, and last I checked, neither of us are doctors.”

“No,” Tony said fiercely, setting down his mug. “I want to keep going. We’re in this deep, and so help me God, we are going to stay down here.”

Rogers sighed and tilted his head back, leaning against the wall. “I didn’t want to bring this up,” he began, and somehow Tony knew what was coming back. “But I looked at your… metal chest plate thing. While I was bandaging you. And the display said 22%. I’m assuming something bad happens if it gets to zero, right?”

Eyes widening, Tony reached up, placing his hand over his chest. “You—you had no right!” he said. “This is private!”

“You were hurt and it was right out in the open,” Rogers countered. “Anyone could see.”

Tony groaned. Honestly, Rogers did have a point, even if Tony didn’t want to admit it. 22%... it could last them until noon tomorrow, _maybe_. But if they spent too long hanging out down here and missed tomorrow’s pickup, then he’d be in big trouble.

And yet… this place was his last, best hope. There was something to be found down here, he was _sure_ of it. And though he knew rationally that yeah, he could likely always come back later, they were already deep inside. Besides, who knew how much time he had left? Would there even be a _later_?

He had to look now, while he still could.

“This is none of your business,” Tony said. He quickly scarfed down the last of the chicken and rice, polishing it off with a final gulp of coffee. This stuff was truly awful. “And I want to keep going, so we’re going to keep going. End of story.”

“I don’t want to be responsible for your death!” Rogers replied, throwing up his hands. “How can you do this?”

Tony rolled his eyes, reaching into his pack to pull out a fresh shirt and stuffing the remains of the torn one from yesterday into it. “No one’s going to die. You don’t even know what the percentage means—”

“I’m not an _idiot_ , Tony—”

“—And you’re no doctor, either, so quit it.” He pulled his shirt on a little too forcibly, grunting softly in pain afterward. Right. It would be good to keep in mind that he kind of had fractured ribs right now. “Onward.”

Rogers pursed his lips, looking thoroughly annoyed. “I don’t like this,” he said, to which Tony had to consciously stop himself from saying _duh_ to. “…Promise me, then.”

“Promise you what?”

The other man’s gaze dropped down to his chest, though his metal plate was now covered by the shirt. “Promise me that if we continue, you’re not going to drop dead on me.”

Tony hesitated. Great. Was he really going to have to lie to Captain America? Sure seemed like it. Well, fine. He’d lie. And if he ended up breaking it, well, what the hell was Rogers going to do about that? “Yeah, sure.”

“You _swear_?”

“Jesus, Rogers, do you want me to make a damned pinky promise or something?” He stuck his hand out, extending his pinky. “I solemnly swear I will not drop dead on you.”

Rogers blinked at him for a few seconds, then, to Tony’s surprise, reached out, entwining their pinkies. “Alright,” he said, blue eyes fixed on Tony. “I’m counting on you.”

“Good.” Tony withdrew his hand quickly, focusing on packing his stuff and being absolutely sure to not meet Rogers’ gaze. Damn the man. Why did he have to look so impossibly earnest all the time?

Once he was done, Tony turned back to the other man, who appeared to have finished some time ago. “Ready?” Rogers asked. Tony nodded, and so Rogers turned on the flashlight and put out the fire, then ducked out of the igloo, Tony following. “Smell that?” Rogers said, his nose wrinkling in the dim light.

Tony sniffed the air, grimacing afterward. “Rotting sabretooth carcass. Lovely. Let’s move fast.”

“Not too fast.” Before he knew it, Rogers was by his side, slipping an arm around him. Tony tried to shimmy away, and his confusion must have showed on his face, because Rogers continued, “You’re injured. Don’t you need help walking?”

“No,” Tony said automatically, even though he had to admit it felt kind of nice. But he couldn’t accept this help from Rogers, not after he’d lied to him during a pinky promise. That was just bad. “Thanks, really, but no thanks.”

Rogers sighed but let go, allowing Tony to straighten and take another deep breath. How long did fractured ribs take to heal? It would be nice when breathing stopped hurting. “Fine,” Rogers said. “So do you know where we’re going?”

“Of course I do.” Of course he didn’t. What did Rogers think, that he had a map of this place tucked away somewhere? Not that he wanted Rogers to think otherwise, really. If he knew just how clueless Tony was, no doubt he’d bodily haul him up and take him back to the airship, and that was the last thing Tony needed, regardless of how mentally pleasing the image was. Best to fake confidence. “Just follow me.” At the very least, he knew they had to go in _deeper_ , which was marginally better than not knowing anything at all.

From beside him, Rogers gave a reluctant little nod and fell quiet.

And so they walked. Though Tony tried not to think about it, he had to admit that he almost wished they were turning around to go back home, because by now they’d been down here for well over a full day and Tony was kind of missing sunlight. The fact that his chest and ribs were still throbbing didn’t help. At some point, Rogers produced another pill of aspirin, which Tony downed gratefully, even if it wasn’t enough to get rid of the pain completely. But he could live with that.

After a few hours, something in his pack made a beeping sound, and he stopped in his tracks, quickly rummaging through the pack to find the offending item.

“Tony?” Rogers asked, shining the flashlight at him. “What’s going on?”

Tony brought out the power detector, blinking at it in surprise. Huh. It was working again. He made it stop beeping, then peered down at the display. “I’m… picking up something,” he said, a bubble of hope welling up inside of him. Was this it? Was this what he’d been looking for?

“And?” Rogers pressed. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted, tongue loose at the discovery. But it didn’t matter. It was something. “Whatever it is, it’s big. Come on.” He took off, ignoring the wheeze in his lungs as they pressed up against his ribcage, far too excited to care about the pain.

“Tony, wait,” Rogers protested, following after him, but Tony paid him no heed. He turned this way and that, going forward when the readings got stronger, turning away when they got weaker.

And then Tony found what he was looking for. Before him stood the biggest igloo-thing he’d seen down here yet, the entire wall covered with more drawings. “Look at this,” he breathed, circling it slowly as he shone his light against its surface, Rogers right behind him. The drawings had fewer sabretooths, but more glowing circles that Tony suspected weren’t supposed to represent the sun. In one sketch, the stick figures hovered over one of their fallen, the glowing circle held above its body. In the next, the fallen stick figure was standing again, apparently well. Another set of drawings showed the glowing circle being used to carve something that looked suspiciously like one of the many igloo-things Tony had seen down here, and still another showed the stick figures prostrating themselves before a mountain, the glowing thing at the top accompanied by what looked like a giant hand. Okay, so he didn’t really understand that last one, but the others he got readily enough. Whatever this glowing thing was, it seemed to be pretty damn powerful, acting according to the will of its holder.

He found himself at the entrance of the giant igloo-thing again, and with a deep breath, he peered into the opening, which led to a vast dome of blackness—except for one tiny thing he could see shining from within.

And that was when he knew without a reasonable doubt this was it, that this was the cure he’d been searching for. His power detector was going haywire, so he just shut it off, stuffing it back into his pack. “I hope you brought champagne, Rogers, because now would be an excellent time to bring it out.”

To his surprise, Rogers didn’t look nearly as enthused as Tony felt. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he said.

Tony turned around, glaring at him. “What? How can you have a bad feeling? Just look at it.” It was potential life. Potential salvation.

“It’s a glowing dot in the back of a room,” Rogers said. “It’s magic, isn’t it? I don’t trust magic.”

Huh. He hadn’t expected Rogers to have any experience with magic, much less be able to identify it—but then again, he’d heard of some weird stuff happening during the war. Well, it didn’t matter. Tony rolled his eyes, waving one hand. “You probably don’t trust anything that wasn’t made in America. I’m going to pick it up.”

He stepped into the igloo, but was promptly stopped when Rogers reached out, grabbing his arm. “Don’t do this, Tony,” he said. “It could be dangerous.”

Though it hurt like hell, Tony wrenched his arm free, gasping as his body shifted painfully while pulling away. Still, it was worth it for the guilt-stricken expression he caught on Rogers’ face afterward. That would teach the other man to get all hands-on with him. “You’re not my boss or my superior officer or anyone I have to take orders from,” Tony snapped, glaring at Rogers. Tony was so close now, and he wasn’t about to let some Boy Scout stop him—so with that, he spun on his heel and headed in, making his way toward the glowing light.

“Tony,” Rogers began, but otherwise didn’t make any move to follow him, if the absence of footsteps was saying anything. Well, good. Tony didn’t need him. He didn’t need anyone. If this thing—this piece of magic—was for real, if it did what he _needed_ it to do and fixed his dying heart, then that was it. He wouldn’t need anything or anyone anymore, much less Steve goddamned Rogers.

He shone his flashlight onto the glowing object once he got closer, seeing now that it was sitting on top of a small pedestal, decorated with more of those sabretooth drawings. In the daylight, he suspected that this would all look quite unremarkable—it was just a rock sitting on a more shapely piece of rock. But in the darkness, it shone a bright yellow, facets glistening the same color as the sun. If this wasn’t the glowing circle from the paintings on the wall, he didn’t know what it was.

There were so many things he could do with something like this. First things first, though—he’d fix his heart, and then Rogers would never have to be annoying again.

Tony reached out, picked the gem up, and closed his fingers around it—

—Then watched as the glow suddenly vanished, leaving nothing in his hand but a distinctly unmagical-looking stone.

What the hell had just happened?

Even though he knew it was a completely irrational thing to do, he shook the stone in his hand like he would a pair of dice, as though some kinetic energy might be enough to make it glow again. Rather predictably, though, it stayed dark, and if it weren’t for the fact that he and Rogers had argued over this less than five minutes ago, Tony would have thought that he’d just imagined it all.

Right, Rogers. Great, now he’d have to deal with him again. Well, nothing for it, he supposed, and so he stuck the stone into his pocket, trying to keep the bitter disappointment off his face as he turned back toward the entrance. “You can relax now,” he said, resigned. He’d been sure this was the answer to the problem of his heart somehow, even though he’d had no direct proof that this gem was the powerful glowing circle from the drawings. But like everything else, it was nothing more than a false hope.

Rogers took a few steps in, his frown evident in the glow of their flashlights. “What happened?” he asked. “Where’s the glowing thing?”

“It was nothing,” Tony replied. Keeping the bitterness off his face he could do. Keeping it out of his voice, apparently, was much harder. “Let’s go.” He’d risked hours he didn’t have in order to pursue this, and now it was all for nothing.

Rogers opened his mouth, like he wanted to ask some more questions, but thankfully he seemed to eventually decide that keeping quiet would be best, instead just nodding and turning around. “We should be able to find our way back to the entrance,” he said. “I’ve been keeping track, but it’ll probably take us all day to get out, if not longer.” Tony just shrugged, and Rogers turned to face him, frowning again. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

Tony rolled his eyes and held up his hand. “We pinky promised, remember?”

“Right.” Looking slightly mollified, Rogers turned his attention back to the roads, working off of… whatever map he had managed to build in his head. Did he have a photographic memory? Tony wondered if he’d always been like that, or if it was yet another effect of the serum. “You know, it’s weird…”

“What’s weird?”

Rogers shone his light against a wall. “I feel like the drawings are different.”

Tony’s brow furrowed, not sure what to make of this. “Well, we didn’t look at all the drawings,” he said at last. And after being so let down by the ones on the wall of the giant igloo, he didn’t want to look at any of them now. “I’m sure there’s some we missed.”

Rogers made a soft sound in the back of his throat, lips pursing. “I guess,” he said after a moment before continuing on, though he didn’t sound convinced. Tony suspected he’d like to stay and check them out more, but was too concerned about the time it would take to actually do it. Maybe next time. Well, next time for Rogers, anyway. Tony was becoming increasingly convinced that there’d be no next time for himself.

And that was when Tony started to feel ill.

“Hold on,” he gasped, reaching out to steady himself against the wall. “I need… ow… I need a moment.” His heart seemed to be… throbbing, somehow. But how was this possible? The charge was low, sure, but his heart wasn’t supposed to give out until it actually reached zero. Oh, this could be bad.

Rogers’ eyes widened, and he went over to Tony, placing a hand against his shoulder. “Tony?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine,” Tony replied, waving one arm. “Don’t—ah—don’t mind me.” God, his chest felt awful, like a weight was pressing down upon it, squeezing the air out of his lungs. In an attempt to hopefully clear up whatever the hell it was, he took several deep breaths, preferring the pain from his fractured ribs to… this. Not that he knew what _this_ was. “Just a moment. Really.”

“I think you should lie down,” Rogers replied, looking concerned. “Come on, I—oh.” Tony turned fast enough to see Rogers sinking to his knees, looking dazed.

“Rogers?”

Rogers groaned and fell flat on his face, sending up a tiny cloud of dust as he did, and then he was out like a light. And Tony—well, Tony would have been more concerned, but his body chose that moment to completely give out as well, and the next thing he knew, he was lying down, the world going black around him.

*

Tony opened his eyes, blinking slowly at the darkness all around. In front of him was a little pool of light, and it took a few minutes for his brain to process it as coming from one of the flashlights they’d been holding earlier, lying somewhere on the ground now.

Right. He and Rogers had been walking, heading toward the entrance again, when they’d both collapsed for no reason…

Tony groaned, eyes shutting again. He needed to check on Rogers, but he’d do that in a bit. For now, though, he was realizing that the crushing pain in his chest was gone. Sure, there were the wounds left from the sabretooth battle earlier, but that was practically nothing in comparison. What had changed? He reached up, touching his chest… and then he realized something was different. His eyes flying open, he blindly grabbed for the flashlight, picking it up and shining it on himself as he fumbled one-handedly with the buttons of his shirt.

The metal plate was different now. It had shrunk considerably, just a fraction of its original size, and took the shape of a small circle placed directly over his heart. Embedded in it was the gem from earlier, glowing yellow the way it had been before Tony had touched it.

He stared at it. What had happened? How was this even possible? Curiously, he dug the gem out of the socket to see what would happen, then promptly convulsed and gasped for breath, hurriedly jamming it back a moment later as he tried not to panic. _Jesus_ , that was painful. Alright, fine, now he knew. No matter what, he’d have to make sure this thing didn’t fall out, because it was going to hurt like hell otherwise.

Once he was done panting, though, the realization of what this meant dawned on him. His heart was better, it seemed. There was no more battery, no more danger of running out of power. Just the gem, which needed no charge. Whether it had actually _cured_ his affliction was a different story entirely, but… it was _magic_. It could do anything.

Tony laughed then. It was just a quiet, breathless chuckle at first, but then it got louder, longer, and before he knew it, he was laying back on the floor, eyes squeezed shut in mirth. For _years_ he’d been traveling the world, searching for something, anything that would fix him. And for years he’d been slowly losing hope. When he made the decision to fight in the war, he did so believing that it wouldn’t even matter if he was gunned down, because he was going to drop dead soon anyway. But he’d lived, and he’d come to the Savage Land, and now… now he’d found it. Now he’d found what he’d been looking for.

He had to tell Rogers. “Rogers,” he said, shining his flashlight around. Where had he gone? “Hey, come on, don’t tell me you left—”

And that was when his beam of light landed on one very large cat.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” he breathed, scrambling to his feet and grabbing one of his gauntlets from his pack. “Rogers?” he tried again, lowering his voice to a whisper—not that it really mattered, since he’d just spent the past five minutes laughing loudly, which, come to think of it, was not the greatest of ideas when he had at least one fractured rib.

The sabretooth stirred, and Tony swallowed, wondering if he should just run for it. But what if Rogers was nearby? He couldn’t abandon him. Rogers would have done the same, right?

Then he saw the tattered remains of Rogers’ clothes spread out on the floor, and suddenly he feared the worst.

This was bad. This was really, really bad. He could vaguely recall seeing Rogers passing out seconds before he himself had hit the floor—so what had happened after that? Had another sabretooth come down and—God forbid—eaten him? Because Rogers wasn’t here anymore, just his clothes and his shield and oh God what was he going to do.

Well, okay, he knew what to do, sort of. At the very least, he had to get Rogers’ shield—from what he’d heard, it was a miracle of modern engineering, and no way was he going to leave it down here at the mercy of stray giant cats, indestructible or not.

The only problem was getting close enough to the stray giant cat to actually retrieve it.

By now, it was slowly sitting up; was it just him, or did it seem rather lethargic and weak? Rogers must have put up a hell of a fight, and _God_ , was that painful to think about. Maybe—maybe he was still alive. Maybe he’d just run off somewhere to tend to his wounds. Either way, though… forget just retrieving the shield, he decided. Tony needed to avenge the hell out of him.

“Hey, you big ugly brute,” he called, bringing up his gauntlet and firing. The sabretooth yelped— _yelped?_ —and dodged clumsily out of the way, so Tony just fired at it again. Funny. The other one they’d fought was much more aggressive. This one just seemed confused. “After what you did, are you not going to put up a fight?” he asked it, adjusting his angle. If he could get it to open its mouth somehow, then he’d be in the clear—

To Tony’s surprise, the sabretooth _shook its head_.

Completely taken aback, Tony lowered his hand, staring at it. Had it just—had it just communicated with him? “What?” he said dumbly.

The sabretooth looked at him and whined, paws skittish as it attempted to find steady footing. It seemed to be trying to say something, but considering that giant cats weren’t exactly equipped to speak any human language, it was no surprise that nothing came out. “I don’t understand,” Tony told it. “What are you doing?”

Another whine. With a wary glance at the gauntlet, the sabretooth took a few steps forward, then placed its paw against Rogers’ shield. Its body seemed to be shaking.

Tony frowned, looking at the cat, then the shield, then back at the cat again. And that was when he realized what was going on.

“Oh, my God,” he gasped. “ _Rogers_?”

The sabretooth nodded quickly. Breath hitching, Tony stepped forward and shone his flashlight at it—sure enough, those blue eyes were the same as Rogers’, even if they looked more panicked than normal. As for the rest of him… well. There wasn’t much of Rogers there, unless he counted the golden fur or the fact that even with the short legs sabretooths apparently had, there was something about his build, massive though it was, that exuded grace and power. Okay, so maybe there was more of Rogers here than he’d thought—shame his patriotism hadn’t carried through, though, because no doubt Tony would have laughed himself into a coma if Rogers had had a star marking on his ass. Still… “I don’t understand,” he said again. “How did this happen?”

It— _Rogers_ —leveled a glare at him, as if to say _how should I know_? Tony sighed, plopping down onto the ground. Fixed heart or not, he really needed to be seated right now. “Wow,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Okay. Wow. So you’re a sabretooth now, huh?” He paused, expecting an answer, then remembered that Rogers couldn’t talk. “Right. Well. First things first… we have to figure out how this happened. And then we have to figure out how to undo it.”

Rogers let out what sounded like a very put-upon sigh, sitting down next to his shield and looking at Tony expectantly.

“What?” Tony asked. “Oh, come on, you want _me_ to figure this out? I need help.” When Rogers didn’t make any sort of useful response, Tony just let out his breath in an annoyed huff, tapping his fingers on the ground. “Okay. Well, obviously, something magical happened. Do you remember that gem? It affected me. My metal plate is mostly gone now.” He pointed at his chest, since his shirt was still open. “And I guess…” Oh. Oh, shit. Was this his fault? Did he somehow turn Rogers into a giant prehistoric cat?

Rogers seemed to raise one eyebrow at him—how he could still do that, Tony didn’t know—and Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was many things, but dishonest wasn’t one of them.

“Fine. Full disclosure. I was thinking about my metal plate when I reached out to touch the gem. I also _may_ have been thinking about how annoying you were. So, assuming that this is some kind of wishing stone, maybe it was kind enough to grant two of my wishes and turned you into a less annoying form.” After all, Rogers couldn’t talk anymore, even if he was now a hundred times more terrifying—he growled dangerously in response, and Tony quickly held up his hands. “Hey, I never actually _wanted_ this to happen,” he said quickly. “I’d much rather have you as a human.” He was a lot easier on the eyes as a human. “But anyway, don’t worry. I’m sure there’s a way to fix this. I’m Tony Stark, remember?”

Rogers didn’t seem very impressed by this, waving one paw dismissively. “Hey,” Tony protested. “I’m a genius. We’ll fix you and then you can tell me how it was and we’ll sit around a campfire and laugh about it later. Anyway…” He looked down at his chest. “Maybe this will be easy. If it grants wishes, maybe I can just wish it back, right? Dear glowing gem embedded in my body, please turn Steve Rogers back into a human.”

Somewhat unsurprisingly, nothing happened.

Tony pursed his lips, buttoning his shirt up. “Why does everything have to be so complicated all the time?” he groused. “Okay, Rogers, just relax. We’ll figure something out. So tell me, what do you want to do? Do you want to look for stuff down here, or get out of here?”

Rogers jerked his head upward, which Tony took to mean that he wanted to be aboveground again. “Alright,” Tony said. Before he could continue, though, Rogers’ eyes went wide, and he went over to the wall, clawing at it.

“What is it?” Tony asked, frowning. God, he hoped this wasn’t his way of letting him know he had to do his business, though he supposed it would be better than just letting loose without warning. Rogers pawed at the wall again, looking back at him. Tony sighed, shining the flashlight against him, trying to figure out what he was getting so worked up over.

And then he saw it. The wall was still covered in crude drawings, just like before… but as Rogers had mentioned earlier, they seemed different now. Gone were the depictions of hunting and gathering, replaced by something else entirely.

He shifted the light to the left, following the progression of drawings. First two human-looking stick figures, then a human and a sabretooth. Then a sunrise, an arrow, and a sunset, repeated three times. Then a tall mountain, then the human and the sabretooth standing at the top, and then two humans standing on the top.

“Very strange,” he said. “Okay. So what, the human is me and this awful depiction of a cat is you? Then… three sunrises and three sunsets. And a mountain. So by sunset of the third day, we should be at the top of some sort of mountain. Does this sound good? Because I think I’m talking out of my ass.” Rogers didn’t seem to be complaining, though, so Tony continued. “Once we’re on top of the mountain, you change back. Somehow.”

Magic was weird, but Tony would take what he could get. “See? There’s a way to fix you. We just have to do it within a timeframe. That’s all.”

Rogers sighed and made a shrugging motion, as though he didn’t really like what he was hearing but couldn’t do anything about it. Well, two could play at that game. Honestly, Tony had to wonder what would happen if they failed to make it in time, but they’d cross that bridge once they got there. Everything was going to be fine.

“Okay, then,” Tony said after a moment of silence. “Chop chop. We have a mountain to climb. Let’s go.” He was about to start walking again, but Rogers made a whining sound, going over to his pack and shield. Oh. Right. They probably shouldn’t just leave this here. He went over to pick everything up, though he left the tattered remains of Rogers’ clothing behind. Once they got Rogers turned back—because they _would_ get him turned back, no doubt about it—it wasn’t as though he’d be able to wear these scraps of fabric anymore. “Don’t eat me if the answer is no, but can I make you carry these things?”

To his surprise, Rogers nodded, and so Tony went about attaching both of their packs and the shield to Rogers’ back. It was awkward, but with some clever use of twine, they were able to manage. Jesus, Rogers was _huge_. Thank God he was on Tony’s side. “Alright. Ready to go?”

Rogers nodded again, and so they set off, with Rogers leading because Tony honestly had no clue where they were going. Multiple times along the way, though, he had to call out to Rogers, telling him to slow down because he was going far too fast, which was honestly getting to be supremely annoying. After an hour of this, Rogers evidently felt the same way, turning at his shout and glaring at him.

“Hey, I’m just a slow human,” Tony told him, jogging to catch up and trying not to wheeze. He’d downed some more of Rogers’ aspirin earlier, but things would be much easier if he wasn’t hurting at all. “You know, I’d shout at you less if you just walked at a manageable speed.”

Rogers seemed to think about it, then sat down on his hind legs, looking at him expectantly. “What?” Tony asked. Rogers just stared at him some more. Tony really wished he could speak.

Eventually, though, he realized what Rogers was getting at. “No,” he said. “I am _not_ riding you.”

He received a whine in response, which he had to roll his eyes at. “Rogers. You are a _cat_. I’m not putting my legs around you. You realize I’ve never even ridden a horse before, right?”

But Rogers, damn him, was still looking at him expectantly, and Tony groaned, rubbing his forehead. He… he _supposed_ they might be able to go faster if Rogers didn’t have to wait for him. But he had no idea how to ride, much less ride bareback on a goddamn sabretooth. What if he fell off? What was he supposed to grab at? But Rogers was being stubborn and somehow, he pulled off puppy-dog eyes really well.

“This is crazy,” Tony muttered, swinging one leg over Rogers’ body. “Whatever you do, _don’t_ ride like the wind.” God, it was a good thing he had plenty of aspirin, because he didn’t want to think of how much this would hurt if he hadn’t been drugged. Gingerly leaning forward, he awkwardly clutched at fistfuls of Rogers’ fur, which was coarse and bristly in his hands. “Okay. Giddyup, boy.”

If Rogers rolled his eyes at him, well, Tony couldn’t see, so it might as well have not happened! But then he took off, and Tony had to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have goaded him, because—well. It wasn’t very comfortable. Then again, could riding a sabretooth bareback _ever_ be comfortable? He supposed it could be worse, really. Rogers was surprisingly graceful and smooth in his movements, and thankfully for Tony’s stomach, he didn’t bound down the road like a crazy thing. At some point, Tony had to admit that this was a good idea, despite the growing soreness in his legs.

They stopped a few hours later, with Tony declaring that he was starving and needed to eat. Rogers allowed him to awkwardly dismount, at which point Tony flopped down onto the ground, rubbing his legs. “God,” he said. “I’m going to be feeling this in the morning.”

Rogers made a sound that might have been a laugh, if only Tony knew what sabretooth laughs sounded like. “Was that a laugh?” he asked. “Does Captain America really laugh at things?” Rogers just looked at him impassively, and so Tony sighed, pulling one of the packs off Rogers’ back. “Fine, don’t tell me,” he said. He reached in, bringing out one of their packaged meals, then blinked and turned back to Rogers. “Uh. You wouldn’t happen to still want to eat…” He glanced at the package, continuing, “…pinto beans, would you?”

The face Rogers made in response was priceless, and Tony couldn’t help but snort. “Not surprised. Okay, seriously, I don’t know what you can eat.” He dug through his pack, coming up with another sealed package. “Meatballs. Better?”

Rogers sighed and shrugged, which Tony took to mean _yes fine completely alright_. So he opened the package, then dumped the meatballs into a bowl and set them in front of Rogers, looking at them doubtfully. Sure, he knew they were calorically dense and designed to be consumed by active men in the army, but… they seemed so small compared to Rogers’ massive size. How could they ever fill him up?

Apparently, Rogers was thinking the same thing, staring down at the bowl contemplatively. Or maybe he was just figuring out how he was going to eat them. Tony really hoped Rogers didn’t expect to be fed, mostly because that would be as awkward as hell, but also because if given a choice, Tony would choose to not be within striking distance of that gaping maw. Which was _ridiculous_ , because it was Rogers, and not a wild sabretooth. But _still_.

Fortunately, though, Rogers eventually lowered his head, starting to lap up his food. He looked kind of like a dog with a food bowl, though Tony wasn’t sure if this was something he should bring up. It was kind of cute, he guessed, but also unsettling. This was wrong. Captain America was a human.

Realizing he was staring, Tony quickly looked back down at his own sad pack of beans before Rogers could catch him, picking up a fork and beginning to chow down. Aside from the sound of Rogers’ chewing, which Tony had to admit was kind of obscenely loud, they ate in silence—Rogers, obviously, was in no state to talk, and Tony didn’t really have anything to say. When they were done, he packed up all their things, frowning disapprovingly at Rogers’ bowl. “Ew,” he said. “Sabretooth slobber.”

Rogers snorted, giving him an unperturbed look, like he was saying _this is all your fault anyway so deal with it_. Well, fine. Tony could deal with it. He nudged it toward the wall with his foot, straightening. “We don’t need that bowl anymore, anyway.” He received another eye roll for his efforts, but he ignored it, instead securing everything against Rogers’ back again. “Alright. Ready to go?” Rogers nodded, so Tony climbed on, clutching at his fur and leaning in close as they took off.

An hour or two later, they finally reached the edge of the city, and Tony sighed in relief as he laid eyes on the long tunnel from what seemed like ages ago, even though really, it had been what, two days? Rogers headed down the hall at remarkable speed—it seemed like he had extraordinary night vision; Tony would have to ask about it later. Then they were back at the entrance, and Tony found himself promptly cursing.

He’d forgotten. They’d lowered themselves down here on a piece of rope.

Looking dubious, he dismounted and peered up the hole, from which the rope was still dangling, thankfully. Still, that wasn’t exactly going to help Rogers much, unless his ability to climb up long dangly strings was somehow intact. Somehow Tony doubted that was the case.

“So,” he said, turning to look back at Rogers. “Got any ideas?”

Rogers stepped into the little beam of light shining down from above—it wasn’t very bright, but given that there had been so much canopy overhead, it wasn’t indicative of what time of day it was. After a moment, he stood up on his hind legs, pawing at the wall.

Tony blinked. “That’s your plan?” he asked. “Climb up the wall? Can you even do that?”

Rogers snorted at him, getting back onto the floor and nudging him toward the rope. Tony frowned, confused. “What are you doing?” he said. “You want me to climb up first?” Rogers moved and crouched down beneath the rope, so Tony took that as a yes, using him as a stepping stool as he grabbed on. “Thanks,” he told him. Even as a sabretooth, he was still very much Captain America, apparently.

With that, he started climbing up, back toward the light. Thankfully, the drop hadn’t been deep, but they’d been traveling all day and Tony’s limbs were sore from straddling Rogers at awkward angles, and not in a fun way. Finally, though, he made it up, flopping onto the ground afterward before managing to gather the strength to look back down into the opening, where Rogers still was. “Alright,” he said. “Work your magic.”

Rogers nodded, assessing the wall before catching his eye and jerking his head. Taking that to mean he wanted Tony to move, he scooted away from the opening, listening to the sound of Rogers clawing his way up.

He grimaced. Whatever was going on down there, it didn’t sound very good. In fact, based on the loud thumps, it seemed more like Rogers was scaling the wall, sliding down, and falling. Over and over and over again.

After a few minutes of this, Tony ventured back to the hole, hoping that a paw wasn’t going to appear from within and claw his face off. Nope—it seemed like Rogers was just standing, glaring at the wall. “You’re still down there,” Tony said helpfully.

Rogers growled.

Tony let out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. This wasn’t working. He glanced at the sky for the first time—he’d been too busy listening to Rogers to pay attention to the light—and frowned. He couldn’t see the sun because of all the trees, but he suspected it was late afternoon. The first sunset of their deadline was approaching. “I’m coming back down,” he announced. Rogers’ eyes widened at that, and he shook his head wildly, but Tony ignored him, taking hold of the rope and sliding downward as Rogers whined uselessly. “We have to find another way out,” he said. “And I can’t let you wander off on your own. So let’s go—if we follow the perimeter, we should be able to find another exit.” He hopped on and held on tight, and with a bit of goading, Rogers finally took off.

It took another hour, but eventually they found another tunnel leading outward, and Rogers picked up the pace as Tony squeezed his eyes shut and gripped at him harder. “Easy, big guy,” he managed, though he might as well have said nothing for all Rogers paid attention to him. But then they stopped abruptly, and Tony opened his eyes to see what the problem was.

Oh.

In front of them stretched a large, deep ravine, one he couldn’t see the bottom of and seemed to go on in both ways in front of him. Could they just follow the edge and hope they’d come to a part where it’d end eventually? How much time would that take? And what if it ended at somewhere like a cliff? Frowning, Tony got off of Rogers, then carefully dropped a rock into the pit.

He couldn’t hear the sound of it hitting the ground.

“Well, this is great,” Tony sighed, looking around. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t entirely a crapshoot. There were a few conveniently-placed vines hanging from the trees on either side of the ravine, which made him wonder if whatever ancient civilization that had once occupied this place had grown them here for the express purpose of swinging across. Tony had swung across using his fair share of vines, so it wouldn’t be new, just terrifying—then again, that was part of the thrill. Rogers, though…

He looked to the edge of the ravine, then at Rogers, then back to the ravine. It was too far for Tony to jump, but maybe Rogers could make it…? “What do you think?” Tony asked. “Is this a jump you can make?”

Rogers stared down into the pit for a moment, then looked back at him and shrugged. It kind of seemed like he was saying _it doesn’t matter, because we don’t have any other choice_. Which, unfortunately, was completely true.

“Right,” Tony said, biting his lip. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit. But what could they do? The other exit was a pit Rogers couldn’t get out of. Here, he had a chance… it was just that if Rogers messed up, he’d end up dying as a result. And Tony really didn’t want him to die.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. S.H.I.E.L.D. owed him big time for all of this. “So,” he said after a moment. “Me or you first?”

Rogers stepped forward and nosed against him, which he took to mean as _Tony first_. “Alright,” he said, reaching out to grab a vine, testing its strength. Seemed sturdy enough. He wondered if there was a way he could manage to swing Rogers across, too, but there just wasn’t enough he could work with. It didn’t matter, he supposed. Rogers would jump, and he’d make it, and then they could continue and everything would be fine. “Off I go.”

With that, he took a running start, then leapt across the ravine, gripping on for dear life. As always, there was that terrible feeling in his gut halfway through that oh God, the vine would break and drop him in and then he’d be in really big trouble, but it held, and in seconds he was safely on the other side, turning to look back at Rogers, who looked mildly impressed. Huh. How about that?

“Your turn,” Tony said, clapping his hands. “Hup-hup.” If he didn’t show any doubt, then Rogers would surely succeed, right?

Rogers nodded slowly, turning around and heading partway back into the tunnel. Then he faced Tony again, and Tony couldn’t help but feel a little stab of guilt. Bad enough that whatever he’d done had caused Rogers to change… but to know it may very well lead to something awful like falling into a deep ravine?

He really didn’t want to dwell on it for too long.

Rogers was still standing there, like he was steeling himself, limbs stretching and flexing. Did he even have any jumping experience? Tony was pretty sure he didn’t, since he’d been with him the whole time. Well, that was just great. Rogers was going to attempt a horizontal jump for the first time and it was going to happen over a bottomless pit.

“Come on,” Tony urged softly.

Then Rogers was moving, his strides clunky at first but getting more graceful as he continued to run, and then he was leaping and Christ, Tony was almost too afraid to look—

Shit. Oh, _shit_.

Rogers had made it. Almost. He was dangling from the edge now, claws buried into the ground as he struggled to pull himself up. And Tony—Tony was goddamn useless, hovering around him anxiously, unable to help out at all. What could he do? He wasn’t strong enough to pull someone as massive as Rogers up, and he didn’t have any tools to make this easier. “Rogers,” he said, trying to sound encouraging, not sure how else to react. “Come on. Get up. You can do this.”

Rogers whined and dug his claws into the ground again, trying to gain some leverage. It was hard for Tony to see Rogers’ lower half, but he could hear his legs scrambling for purchase against the vertical wall.

“You can do this,” Tony said again, terrified. “Rogers. Steve. Fuck. Get your ass up here because I’m not doing this for you. Come on.” There had to be something he could do. Maybe—maybe he could swing back and somehow kick Rogers up? No, that was no good; he’d probably dislodge him. Could he just try grabbing onto one of his paws anyway? No, then they’d probably both fall. God, he hated this. He hated being useless.

Rogers looked at him, and for an instant, Tony feared that he was just going to let go. But then—then he growled, and then he grit his teeth, and then he managed to get one paw firmly onto solid, horizontal ground. A few seconds of ragged breathing later, he managed to hoist the upper half of his body out of the ravine, looking pained. Some of the rock gave way underneath him, and he scrabbled again, slipping before regaining his lost ground and then finally, finally pulling himself up all the way to wind up in a sprawled heap.

“My God,” Tony breathed, running over and wrapping his arms around Rogers’ neck. He couldn’t help it. No matter how much Rogers had grated on his nerves in the past, he’d almost _died_ today. And not even in some heroic way, like by protecting Tony from a pack of sabretooths—which Tony dearly hoped would never happen—but by almost falling into a hole in the ground. Jesus. “Alright. No more absurdly wide, deep pits of doom, okay? I think we’ve had enough of that.”

Rogers awkwardly brought one paw up, thumping at Tony’s back, causing him to blanch and pull away. “I appreciate the gesture,” he told him quickly. “But super soldier strength and sabretooth paws aren’t a good combination.” Rogers just sighed and stood up, looking around, Tony looking with him. He lifted one hand and pointed at a mountain peak, the highest of any of the nearby ones. “That’s got to be it,” he said. “What do you think, Rogers?”

To his surprise, Rogers shook his head. Tony frowned. “What?” he asked. “That’s a mountain. The tallest one. So we should go there.” Rogers nodded at this; Tony’s frown deepened. “So what’s your problem?” Of course, since Rogers couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t answer, so Tony sighed, rubbing his forehead. And then it came to him. “Oh. _Oh._ What, you don’t want to be called Rogers?”

Rogers nodded.

Huh. “So what do you want? Captain America? Cap? Steve?” Rogers nodded enthusiastically at that last one, and Tony laughed. Apparently, almost dying while in his presence put them on a first-name basis with each other now. “Okay,” Tony said. “Steve. What now?”

Rogers—no, Steve, he needed to start thinking of him as Steve now—looked toward the mountain, contemplating it. Then he started to walk, and Tony followed after him, looking up at the mountain as well. It wasn’t _that_ far, he supposed. Just tall. Could they make it to the top in time?

He gazed up into the sky, searching for the sun, but it was somewhere behind the trees. From the looks of it, though, it was nearly dusk. If they’d interpreted those cave drawings right, then they still had two more sunsets… forty-eight hours.

They’d make it, he told himself. They’d get to the top and things would happen and Steve would be back to normal, and then they could go back home and laugh about what had happened and everything would be fine.

It _had_ to be.

**Day Five**

Tony woke up the next morning to find a giant sabretooth staring him in the face.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, arms flailing as he scrambled backwards, reaching for his pack so that he could retrieve his gauntlets. The giant sabretooth whined, and Tony blinked, belatedly remembering that oh right, this was the kind of company he was keeping these days because his life was crazy. “…Sorry,” he said after a moment, still trying to catch his breath. Was Steve trying not to laugh? It looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Hey. I dare you to react any differently if our positions had been reversed.” Really! If Steve had been in Tony’s position, he’d probably have decapitated him with his shield by now.

Anyway, now they were both awake, so Tony supposed it was time to grab something to eat before heading out. He glanced out the entrance of the cave they’d taken shelter in last night, squinting at the sunlight. Still early, it seemed. That was good.

He grabbed his pack, digging around inside. “I assume you want something to eat now, right?” he asked. Steve nodded, so Tony managed to retrieve a pack whose contents were labeled as “pork sausage patty”. “What about this?” he asked. “Sausage. Mmm.”

Steve actually frowned at him, shaking his head. Tony frowned back. “What? It’s sausage. Meat. Sabretooths like meat, I thought.” Just not human meat. He hoped.

But since Steve was having none of it, apparently, he pulled out another box, showing it to him. “Do franks and beans appeal more to your picky palette?” When Steve just shook his head again, Tony sighed, dumping the remaining contents of his pack onto the floor. “Well, what do you want? Black beans? Chicken and noodles? I’m not carrying around a five-star restaurant on my back, Steve. I ate pinto beans last night.”

Steve snorted, then blinked as something caught his eye. He reached forward and pointed at one package, looking at Tony accusingly.

Tony raised an eyebrow, following his gaze. Oh. Was _that_ what he was looking at? “Yeah,” he said. “I brought fireworks. What of it?”

He received an eyeroll in return, though thankfully, Steve didn’t seem interested in chiding him further, presumably because he was now a sabretooth and therefore couldn’t chide anyone. Instead, he put one massive paw against one of the boxes of food and pulled it toward him. Then he drew a circle around it before pointing to himself and drawing a much bigger circle around his body.

Tony blinked, realizing the point Steve was trying to make. “Oh,” he said. “It’s not enough food for you. Is that what you’re trying to say?” Steve nodded, and Tony pursed his lips, thinking about it. Steve was huge. He was also not human. What did sabretooths eat? “Should we… hunt?” he asked uncertainly. “Are you up for some dinosaurs?”

Steve blanched and shook his head. Then his eyes lit up, and he started tapping his paw on the ground in a… familiar rhythm. “Do that again,” Tony said when he stopped, and Steve obliged. Yeah, definitely familiar. Son of a gun, he was using Morse code. “Deer,” he repeated. “Okay, wow, that would have been really useful yesterday. You should do that more. Anyway, what, you want to hunt deer? They have deer here?” Steve nodded again.

“Okay.” Tony packed up the food he’d poured out earlier, bringing out his gauntlets. “How do you want to do this? Should I go with you?” Steve shook his head. “You want to go alone?” A nod.

Frowning, Tony set his gauntlets back down. He didn’t like the idea of Steve going out there by himself, but it’d probably be easier for Steve if he flew solo, particularly since Tony wasn’t exactly well-versed in the art of hunting. Not that he thought Steve was either, but maybe he had new instincts now. Still, though… “It’s a bad idea to separate.”

Steve shook his head again. He jabbed one paw at Tony, like an owner motioning for their dog to sit. _Safer here_ , he tapped out.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m a big boy,” he said. “I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself once I leave this cave. Look, I’ll just stay behind you, okay? But I don’t want to sit here all day and then find out that you got eaten by something. I’m coming.”

Steve let out a deep sigh, rolling his eyes right back. He didn’t actually argue, though, only turning and leaving, so Tony picked up his gauntlets again, following him out. They’d come back later—assuming Steve managed to actually catch something, he’d probably want it cooked. Maybe. Had Steve’s tastes changed? He supposed they’d find out.

True to his word, he kept a fair distance behind Steve as he prowled, sniffing the air and doing other cat things that Tony couldn’t comprehend. It was, to his surprise, all very boring. He had no idea how to hunt—only to avoid being hunted. And given that Steve couldn’t speak, he couldn’t tell what the hell it was he was actually looking for.

Tony sighed, letting his attention drift. This would make a hell of a storyline for _Marvels_ —not that new issues had been written since the war started, but still. Maybe once they got back—because, of course, they _would_ get back—he’d hit Pepper up and see what she could do. After everything that had happened, the country could do with some good old-fashioned entertainment. And Rhodey, well. Rhodey would be so jealous. But that was what he got for running off to the Army Air Forces instead of sticking around!

He was in the middle of imagining a heroic-looking cover when Steve burst into action in front of him, letting out a ferocious roar and pouncing at something. He looked in time to see what he assumed was a deer try to leap away before being swiped at with one massive paw—it went down in a heap of flailing limbs, then disappeared under Steve’s mass. After a moment, Steve pulled away, and the deer was quiet and unmoving, blood dripping from its neck.

“Uh, wow,” Tony couldn’t help but say as he got closer, staring at the dead deer. “I hope Bambi wasn’t around to see that.”

Steve whipped his head around to look at him, and Tony found himself involuntarily stepping back, automatically bringing his gauntlets up. It was just—for a moment, he’d seemed dangerous. Like an actual sabretooth. But then the look faded, and a puzzled expression took its place. _Bamby?_ he spelled.

Tony took a deep breath, approaching him again since he seemed his usual, Steve-ish self. “I guess you haven’t gotten around to watching many movies since the war ended,” he said. “It’s okay. I’ll explain later. It’s just, uh, wow. You really took that thing down. Was that you or your… more animal side?”

Steve just shrugged, picking the dead deer up in his mouth and ambling back to where they’d left their things, Tony trailing after him again. Did any of this bother Steve? It was hard to tell. But Tony had to admit, for a second there… he’d been terrified. Terrified that Steve was gone and in his place was a massive prehistoric cat that’d just killed something and was looking for blood. And Tony didn’t know if Steve knew that for the briefest of moments, something else had overcome him.

He sighed. Maybe—maybe it had all been just his imagination. Maybe he’d only hallucinated that look of bloodlust in Steve’s eyes. Maybe.

They arrived back at their camp a short while later, Steve depositing the deer carcass at the entrance of the cave, looking at Tony. “Ugh,” he said, kneeling down in front of it. “This is like a mutant deer. Why does it have fangs?” Steve let out a sound that was maybe supposed to approximate a laugh as Tony picked up a stick and prodded it, continuing, “Are you sure this is safe to eat?”

Steve shrugged, licking his lips. Apparently, he didn’t care as long as he got some deer meat in his stomach.

“Okay,” Tony said, starting a fire with his lighter and bringing out his knife. Though he’d never hunted before, he at least knew how to gut and prepare a wild animal—he still had vivid memories of some of the tour guides he’d had during his days of adventuring, slapping down some massive dead animal in front of him and telling him what to do with it. Then again, how picky was Steve going to be? “So what are you expecting? Deer bacon? Or do you not mind if I’m messy and give you a slab covered with deer fur?”

Steve just stared at him for a moment, then lowered his head and took a massive bite out of the body, starting to chew and seemingly oblivious to the blood running down his neck. “Well, that’s nice,” Tony said, making a face as he put his knife away. At least he wouldn’t have to get his hands bloody, though he wasn’t sure that this was actually all that much better. A part of him wanted to watch in morbid fascination as Steve just… chomped away, while another part wanted to run off and go empty his stomach.

Speaking of which, he hadn’t actually yet eaten anything today. He dug out the franks and beans from earlier, going to heat them by the fire as he cast another glance at Steve, who seemed merrily oblivious. Should he point out that at this time yesterday, he’d been eating cooked chicken and rice with a fork? Probably not, he supposed. Steve was surely having a difficult time adjusting, and if he could just forget about it all for a little bit, then that was good… right? Right, of course. So Tony ate his franks and beans without comment, washing it down with some more aspirin, then discreetly scooted back into the cave to watch him. The deer carcass was already half gone by now, and Tony had to wonder if Steve was going to eat the whole thing. Was that even possible? He supposed it was. Steve was huge.

“So you know, I’ve been waiting this whole time for you to offer me some,” Tony said casually after a while, needing to hear more than the sounds of Steve eating an animal he’d killed. “Where are your manners?”

Steve blinked, tilting his head, and Tony could tell what he was thinking. “No, I’m just kidding,” he said. “Eat away. I’m just unsettled by the blood you’re spraying everywhere. But please, continue.” Steve let out a whine at this, like some sort of overgrown… sabretooth puppy, but he obediently went back to munching away as Tony put the fire out and packed their things. Once he was done, he rested his head back against the cave wall and let his eyes shut, tuning out the sounds of Steve eating raw meat.

When he opened his eyes again, Steve was gone.

“Steve?” Tony said, bolting upright as he poked his head out of the cave. Nothing. He turned to look at the remains of the deer, which seemed… recently eaten? He couldn’t tell. But if that gooey stuff there was saliva, then yeah, it was recent. Also disgusting.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, grabbing the two packs and Steve’s shield as he got up, looking around. Maybe Steve just had to go do his business? He didn’t seem to be in the immediate area, though, and it was strange that he’d just go off without telling Tony.

After several minutes of searching, his fears were confirmed—Steve had apparently wandered off entirely, and Tony had no idea where. This was bad. Should he stay and wait for him to come back? What if he didn’t?

He groaned, running his free hand through his hair. Okay, yeah, magic was nice and it made his heart work and he was very grateful. But this whole sabretooth business was almost making it not worth the trouble.

After a moment of deliberation, he decided to head north, toward the mountain. If he was lucky, that was the direction Steve was heading in. If he was unlucky, then he was pretty screwed.

Hopefully he was lucky.

Half an hour later, he came across some footprints that looked like they were recently made by a large, Steve-as-a-sabretooth-shaped animal. Tony leaned down to inspect them, not sure how to feel. Either this was a good thing because it meant he was on Steve’s tail, or it was a very bad thing because there was another sabretooth wandering around. But even if it was the latter, well, what the hell could he do? He had to find out. So he kept on moving forward, praying that the tracks belonged to Steve and not some other thing that would only be too happy to eat him.

Twenty minutes after that, he was crouching at the edge of a clearing, watching as a sabretooth ambled across it, away from him. Was it Steve? It was hard to tell, and Tony realized with a sinking feeling that he wasn’t sure if Steve had any unusual markings. So what now? If he just called out Steve’s name and attracted the sabretooth’s attention and then it wasn’t Steve, he’d be in trouble.

Unfortunately, he didn’t see any other choice, and Steve—or whoever it was—was getting further and further away with each passing second. “Steve!” he hissed.

The sabretooth stopped—along with Tony’s heart—then slowly turned, looking right at him. His heart started beating normally again once he saw that yes, this _was_ Steve, even if his eyes had gone kind of weird. “Thank God,” he said, standing up and heading into the clearing. “Why did you—”

In the next instant, Steve had bounded forward to close the distance between them, hissing. “Uh, Steve?” Tony began, backing away. He bumped into a tree, then quickly shimmied out of the way so he could keep on backing up, since Steve was being creepy and continuing to approach him slowly. “It’s me, Tony. You remember me, right? Because you have a sort of glint in your eye and it’s unnerving me just a little. So why don’t you just—”

He was interrupted again when Steve leapt at him; automatically, he brought the shield up to protect himself—and instead of hearing the expected sound of claws scratching on metal, he heard—nothing. After a moment, he dared to lower the shield, peeking over it.

Steve was sitting there in front of him, eyes wide and confused as he looked around. When he noticed Tony had lowered the shield, he gaped at him, mouth moving but no human sounds coming out.

“Hey, calm down,” Tony offered quickly, since Steve seemed on the verge of a panic attack, even if he was doing a good job at keeping it under wraps for the time being. “It’s okay. Do you know what just happened? Or how you got here?” Steve shook his head, withdrawing a bit and apparently trying to make himself look as small as possible, which, for an animal of his size, was basically an exercise in futility. Tony sighed. “It’s okay,” he said again, awkwardly reaching out to pet him. “I guess you just… forgot yourself for a moment.” If an hour counted as a moment, but hey, who was arguing semantics? “Anyway, you wandered off without me, but it’s alright. I found you and we’re headed toward the mountain anyway, so no harm done, right?” Steve gave him a morose look, like it was absolutely not alright, but Tony tried to ignore it.

“Okay,” he said instead, trying to sound peppy. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to please get that mopey look off your face, because it’s actually kind of depressing, and then we’re going to get our asses up that mountain. So turn around and let me mount you.” Wow, that came out wrong.

Steve stared at him, but instead of looking amused he just looked more depressed. “What?” Tony pressed. “Okay, that wasn’t the best choice in words. Let me ride you. Better?” Steve shook his head again. _Dangerous_ , he tapped out.

Tony frowned. “Dangerous?” he repeated. “Why? Because you’re afraid you’ll forget yourself while I’m on you?” Steve nodded, and Tony waved a hand dismissively in response. “It’s going to be fine, Steve. Don’t worry.” When Steve refused to turn around, Tony just tsked, placing his hands on his hips. “So what?” he said. “You want to waste the rest of the day arguing this with me? Because that’s an awful idea. But sure, we can just sit here and do nothing, if you want. It’s your choice, really, because I mean, it’s not like we have to _be_ anywhere by tomorrow night. So what’s it going to be?”

At last, the morose expression disappeared from Steve’s face, only to be replaced by one of annoyance. Well, Tony would take what he could get. “Thought so,” he said as Steve turned around. He clambered onto him, clutching his fur. “See? Progress is nice, isn’t it?”

Steve sighed and started heading off again, and Tony was left to just cling onto him in silence, watching the scenery fly by. Before he knew it, the ground was sloping upward as the foliage got less dense, though there were still trees frequently peppering the mountainside. Were there pterodactyls here? Tony really hoped there weren’t. Because that would be bad.

For now, though, the skies seemed clear, and Steve seemed to be himself, if quietly trotting up a mountain while inhabiting the body of a prehistoric cat counted as being himself. Several times, Tony wondered if he should just… say something, anything, to break the silence, but what good would it do? Steve couldn’t talk back. While he was moving, he couldn’t even spell anything. So Tony just stayed quiet, enjoying the ride as best as he could.

They managed to find a small pond partway up the mountain after dusk, deciding to set up camp there for the night. As Steve went to lap up water from the pond, Tony opened the pack of black beans and ate them cold, feeling too vulnerable to start a fire. What if pterodactyls were nocturnal?

Once the beans were consumed, Tony turned to look at Steve, who was back to looking morose, staring into the pond—presumably at his reflection. He sighed. “Steve?” he tried. But Steve just waved a paw at him, not looking away. Maybe he just wanted some alone time, so Tony decided to leave him be and leaned back against a tree trunk, staring up into the sky. It was still light enough to make out most things, though the moon had risen by now.

Once the stars stopped capturing his interest, though, he found his eyes drifting toward Steve’s pack. He hadn’t really looked inside it, except when searching for something more appetizing than beans—which, unfortunately, did not yield him any particularly thrilling results. But he was aware that Steve kept his notepad in there, and even though he knew he shouldn’t be nosy, well, he was curious and bored. Besides, it didn’t look like Steve was paying attention to him right now.

Carefully, he reached in, pulling the notepad out. Knowing Steve, it was probably filled with boring notes about the flora and fauna and whatever else they were supposed to be taking notes on, and sure enough, the first half of the notepad didn’t disappoint. But since Steve was still moping and Tony was still bored—since, after all, boring notes on stuff he’d already seen were _boring_ —he kept on flipping. And that was when he found the drawings.

There were a lot of them. Various men in uniform who Tony assumed were the famed Howling Commandos—they looked vaguely familiar, at least. There was one man in particular who kept on showing up, labeled as “Bucky”. Then there was a woman, too, labeled only as “Agent 13”.

He flipped through more of the pages. There were a _lot_ of Buckys and Agent 13s. Pages and pages of them, all with varying expressions, though none of them were sad or angry, almost as though Steve only wanted to capture them at their best. Tony had to wonder if they’d posed for Steve, or if he’d done them from memory, but looking down at the dates confirmed that some of these were only a few days old. Huh. He was very good, then.

Tony flipped to another page, only to realize that he was staring at a drawing of… himself. He blinked. What was he doing in here? He went to the next page, realizing that this, too, was a drawing of him, face lit by the firelight as he studied his gauntlets. When had Steve done these?

There was a caption beneath one of them. Tony leaned down, trying to read the writing in the fading light. _Hero of_ Marvels, it said.

For some reason, Tony felt a pang of guilt ripple through him. All this time, Tony had thought of Steve as occasionally charming, but mostly annoying, and Steve… despite what he’d said earlier, Steve still thought of him as _Marvels_ ’ hero, regardless of what Tony himself thought—as though he could see something in him that Tony was missing.

He shut the notepad, quickly shoving it back into Steve’s pack and glancing over at him. From the looks of it, Steve was still staring into the pond—he should put a stop to that, probably, and so he got up, walking toward Steve. Once there, he took a seat beside him, ignoring his surprised glance. “Hey,” he said. “You want to talk?” Steve gave him a look, and Tony groaned, rubbing his forehead. Right. Steve couldn’t talk. And the reason he couldn’t talk was probably because Tony thought he was annoying. Magic was irritating sometimes.

“Sorry,” Tony continued with a sigh. “Look, Steve, I want to share something with you, if you want to listen. Do you know why I had a metal plate over my heart?”

Steve blinked at him a few times, looking surprised. He then hesitated for a moment, as though he was still shocked that Tony was actually opening up about this, then eventually shook his head.

“Okay,” Tony said, running a hand through his hair. He reached up, placing a hand against his chest. “I have a heart condition. Or, rather, had. It was, until yesterday, thought to be incurable.

“It’s not congenital. It’s not genetic, either. I don’t know what the hell it is. But it developed after—well, you’ve read _Marvels_ , right? Do you remember the issue with Wong-Chu? Yeah. There was a point where I was completely alone with the guy and his cronies. No Rhodey or Virgil to see. And they just… they were brutal. I was unconscious for half of it, so I don’t even know what they did. By the time I managed to escape, I was dying, and I had a repulsor pump installed in my chest. Rhodey found me and took me back to Jarvis, and we worked out a way to get my heart working properly again. The problem was, the only way to do that was to keep the pump charged. If it goes empty, I die.”

Tony paused for a moment, remembering the terror he’d felt at the beginning. It’d been a long time ago, but some things never faded. “Ever since then, every adventure I’ve been on, every issue of _Marvels_ you’ve read… that’s just been me looking for a cure. I tried science. I tried surgery. Nothing works but charging the pump, and that’s not a cure, that’s just a temporary fix, because even with the charge, my heart’s getting worse and worse, and eventually not even the charge will be enough. So I wanted to look for magic. I mean, at this point, science was failing me. Why not just throw all my cards to the wind and see what happened?”

By this point, Steve seemed to be looking vaguely horrified, but still Tony pressed on. “So I looked. And it wasn’t easy. All those adventures I went on took me to obscure corners of the world. Places in South America, China, India, you name it.” Now Antarctica, apparently. “And you can’t really charge up a repulsor pump in the middle of nowhere. So there was always that time constraint.

“Do you remember what you told me earlier? About the percentage display in my chest? You thought I was going to die if it reached zero. And you were right. If the repulsor pump stops, so does my heart. But I lied about it, because I was desperate. I’ve been everywhere, Steve. I’ve been traveling the world for years. If it weren’t for the war, I would have kept looking. But I was at the end of my rope, and I thought here… here would be my last, best chance. And that if it failed, then it wouldn’t matter if it reached zero anyway. Because without something to fix it, it’ll be zero sooner rather than later.”

He picked up a rock, idly tossing it into the pond and watching as it promptly sank without skipping. “So now you understand, maybe. Why I had to keep on looking while we were underground yesterday. We could have left and come back later, sure. But at that point, I didn’t know if there would even _be_ a later for me.” He sighed then, turning to glance back at Steve. “I guess… I just wanted you to know. Why you’re like this. Why I was desperate. And I’m sorry. I never wanted this to happen to you.” Hero of _Marvels_ , indeed. “So… so there we are. Now you know.”

Steve stared at him for a long while, and for a moment Tony wondered if he was even going to do anything. Then he lifted one massive paw, putting it around Tony’s shoulders and pulling him close. “Oof,” Tony said, because even something as well-intentioned as a hug came off as somewhat heavy-handed when Steve as a sabretooth was doing it, but once he got used to the pressure he leaned forward, burying his face against Steve’s fur. “So,” he managed, “a hug. Hugs are good, right?” He heard Steve snort, and then his neck moved in a way that seemed to indicate nodding, even though Tony couldn’t actually see.

They stayed like that for several moments, and then Steve let him go, turning to leave the pond and looking back at Tony, who quickly got up to follow him. There was no fire, so they settled down around their packs, Tony bringing out a sleeping bag and sliding into it. “Aren’t you hungry?” he thought to ask after a moment. Steve shook his head, and Tony frowned. He hadn’t eaten anything since this morning. Then again, for breakfast he’d eaten an entire deer, so maybe he was good to go for some time. “Okay,” he said, getting as comfortable as he could.

He closed his eyes, but instead of falling asleep, he found himself opening them again after just a few minutes, peering at Steve in the darkness. “Hey, Steve?” he asked. Steve made a soft questioning sound in response, so Tony continued, “We’re going to make it in time, Steve. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be at the top, and you’ll be human again. Alright?”

Steve gazed at him for a moment, contemplative, then nodded, placing his paw briefly against Tony’s shoulder. If sabretooths could smile, Tony thought that maybe Steve would be smiling right now. He reached up, patting his paw before Steve drew it away. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Tony rolled back into his sleeping bag then, letting his eyes shut again. “Good night, Steve,” he murmured. His mind drifted, and he thought about the top of the mountain, encased in clouds. They’d make it, he told himself. They had to make it. And then—well, Tony had to admit, he didn’t actually know what came next. Maybe there was another gem he could wish on. Or maybe it would happen on its own. He’d figure it out.

And no matter how many times he dreamed that night of wild eyes and pointed teeth, each time he woke up in a cold sweat and looked at Steve’s sleeping form, he told himself, over and over again—Steve was going to be okay.

**Day Six**

The morning was silent as they continued up the mountain, Tony taking his usual spot on Steve’s back and grabbing onto his fur, his stomach partially filled with something labeled as “fruit bars” but came off as more cardboard-like than anything. Steve hadn’t seemed hungry, even when Tony prodded him about it, so he had to assume that _his_ stomach was still full of raw, possibly-not-entirely-digested deer, no matter how gross that seemed.

The journey was, for the most part, uneventful. Steve was making good time, and though the incline was steadily getting steeper, with the help of glorious aspirin, Tony had no problem holding on as he looked around and tried to take mental notes on everything he was seeing—it was hard to believe, but a part of him was actually feeling _guilty_. After all, Steve was supposed to be their note taker, but he was hardly in any state to write down anything now, and how else was Fury supposed to know what they were seeing if Tony didn’t record it? Imagine that, he thought. Steve was rubbing off on him.

As Tony had thought earlier, there were indeed pterodactyls, but they were swooping over the plains below, utterly uninterested in whatever was happening on the mountain. Come to think of it, Tony was pretty sure he hadn’t seen a single living soul up here, save for Steve and himself—if he turned around, he could make out some dinosaurs in the distance, and he knew for a fact that there were other sabretooths hanging around _somewhere_ down there. But up here? Nothing. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if this was worrisome or not—less predators, good, but no living creatures at all, bad.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t actually bad. If there weren’t any living creatures on the mountain, then there was probably a good reason for it. Like maybe it slowly poisoned and killed everyone who set foot on it, which would be unfortunate. Or maybe because it was _magical_.

Honestly, he didn’t know anything. But the cave drawings had suggested that the tallest mountain in the area was a good place to be, and if there was something, _anything_ , that suggested that said cave drawings might actually be true, Tony was going to hang onto it for dear life.

So up they went. Around noon, they found another pond and stopped to rest, Tony sliding right off of Steve and flopping over onto the grass. “Sore,” he croaked, pulling both packs off of Steve and reaching into one to grab a bottle of water. Seriously, riding bareback on a damn sabretooth was never going to be comfortable, no matter how much he did it.

Steve settled down beside him, licking at his paws. Tony turned to look, blinking and raising an eyebrow when he saw just what Steve was doing. “So is that a thing you do now?” he asked. “Licking yourself? Pretty cat-like, isn’t it?” Steve just shrugged, tongue lapping away, so Tony continued, “Alright, so here’s something I’ve been wanting to know. Doesn’t that taste awful? You’re covered in dirt. You’re eating it, basically. How is that okay?”

He received another shrug in reply, so he threw his hands up, then laid back to stare at the clouds. “You’re given a chance to answer the deepest questions about the feline psyche, and all you do is shrug. This is a travesty.”

Again, Steve just shrugged, getting up onto his feet. Tony sat up as well, wondering if they were going to take off again when Steve just walked straight into the pond. “Steve?” he asked. “What are you doing?” He looked like he was just… swimming? “Well, okay,” Tony said, once it was clear that Steve had no intention of answering him. “Just don’t take too long in there, alright? We kind of have a deadline.” With that, he laid back down, going back to staring at the clouds.

He was in the middle of designing some gauntlet upgrades in his head when he abruptly heard a snarl coming from right behind him.

“Jesus!” he gasped, bolting upright and automatically grabbing the pack with the gauntlets, looking around and finding Steve snarling at something behind him, his body still dripping with water. “Steve? Steve, what’s wrong?”

Steve continued to growl, and Tony frowned, looking behind him. There wasn’t much to see—just a couple of trees and rocks. “Do you see something?” he asked, turning back to him. “Because I don’t—”

He realized that Steve was growling at _him_ at the same time a massive paw came swinging at his face.

Cursing, he dodged and rolled out of the way, then hastily reached into his pack and slipped on a gauntlet. “Steve!” he shouted, holding one hand out in front of him protectively before remembering that shit, this was _Captain America_ —he couldn’t just be firing repulsor rays into his face. Still, he kept his hand out anyway, hoping it might serve as a distraction or something. “Steve, snap out of it!”

Unfortunately for Tony, Steve did no such thing, leaping at him again and forcing him to jump off to the side. “Steve!” he repeated, but it didn’t seem to be making any difference.

He forced himself onto his feet, wavering a little as he held his gauntleted hand up again. “I don’t want to have to fire at you,” he told him as they began circling each other slowly. God, was this his life now? Getting into showdowns with national-heroes-turned-extinct-animals? This was probably the last thing he ever wanted. “Really, now. You’re tearing me apart, Steve. Don’t make me cry—it’s not pretty, it really isn’t. So get that wild look out of your eyes and be my friend again, pretty please?”

Somewhat unsurprisingly, his passionate plea went ignored as Steve charged him, and once more Tony had to roll off to the side, narrowly avoiding Steve’s massive paw. “Steve—” he began, but the words died in his mouth as Steve moved as fast as lightning, swiping his paw and tearing a gash into Tony’s arm. “Fuck!” he gasped, instinctively shooting at Steve, eyes squeezing shut at the pain. Damn it, this wasn’t good, not at all.

Steve leapt away from the blast, which gave Tony time to scramble upward again, his free hand clutching at his injured arm. Shit. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t kill Steve. That was an awful idea. But he could hardly let Steve kill him, because that was also an awful idea.

“C’mon,” he tried again, wavering on the spot. “Steve. You’re not a sabretooth. You’re a human and a mighty swell fellow, okay? Making people bleed is bad and so you should stop.”

And _of course_ Steve just had to charge at him once more. Hissing in pain, Tony hauled his ass out of Steve’s way, firing at him again—he hated to do it, but if Steve was anything like that other sabretooth they’d fought, it’d just be an annoyance at worst.

Steve grunted and writhed at the impact, turning long enough for Tony to catch the glint of the shield on his back—right. The shield. That had helped before, hadn’t it, the last time Steve went full sabretooth on him? Maybe it would help now.

He just had to get his hands on it somehow.

Tony aimed another repulsor blast at Steve, firing at his feet rather than his face—Tony wasn’t looking to hurt him, only to distract. Steve grunted, clearly irritated, and turned toward him again. He was going to attempt to stampede him soon, Tony knew. Which was good. It was what he wanted. But damn it, he already knew it was going to hurt like hell.

When Steve came barreling toward him, Tony started running forward as well, leaping up and grabbing hold of a branch above him, even though it made his injured arm feel like it was being ripped right off his shoulder. With that, he managed to swing up over Steve, letting go and landing right on him, though he was facing the wrong way.

He didn’t have much time. Steve bucked, trying to throw him off as he turned and snapped his jaws, his teeth coming dangerously close. Through some miracle, Tony managed to hang on, ignoring the searing pain in his arm as he turned around, grabbing the shield.

A moment later, Tony was flung off, but this time, he had the shield, and so he held it up in front of him protectively with his bad arm, his other hand up to aim the repulsor. God, he hoped this worked. “Hey!” he called, trying to catch Steve’s attention. “Steve. Hey, Steve. Look at me!”

Silence. Tony slowly lowered the shield, looking over the rim. Steve was seated in front of him, looking confused again. When he caught sight of Tony, he quickly padded over to him, blue eyes questioning. “Oh, thank God,” Tony breathed, setting the shield down and wincing when the pain in his arm flared up again. “Jesus. Steve, are you okay?”

Steve’s gaze landed on the gashes in his arm; his eyes widened, and he looked back to Tony, clearly wanting to know where this had come from. “It’s nothing,” Tony said quickly, putting his hand over it, which ended up being a bad idea because one, he was still wearing his gauntlet, and two, now his gauntlet was covered with blood. Great. “Um. If you could grab my bag for me?”

Quickly, Steve turned around, locating the bag after a moment and carrying it back with his teeth. He deposited it at Tony’s feet, then went back to hovering around him, looking anxious. “It’s _nothing_ ,” Tony repeated as he fished out a roll of gauze, starting to awkwardly roll it around his arm and watching as the blood started to soak through. This was really not fun.

Steve didn’t look happy, rapping one paw against the ground to catch Tony’s attention. _Me?_ he tapped out.

“Don’t be silly,” Tony said, hissing as he made another loop around his arm with the gauze. “Please don’t hover over me like that, really, I’m not going to spontaneously combust.” He taped the gauze in place at the same time Steve tapped his paw again. _Me_ , he said, this time without the question mark.

Tony sighed. “No, Steve,” he said. “It wasn’t you. It was… it was just some wild sabretooth that temporarily took over. But it’s okay now. You’re back. Nothing to worry about, right?”

Steve looked at him, eyes wide, his gaze flickering between Tony’s own and the mass of gauze wrapped around his arm. Then, without further ado, he opened his mouth.

“Steve, what…?” Tony began, but before he could get any further, Steve lowered his head, nudging at Tony’s hand before opening wide once more. Frowning, Tony looked down, trying to figure out what on earth Steve was trying to tell him.

And that was when he realized Steve was motioning at the hand with the gauntlet still intact.

“Jesus, Steve,” Tony managed weakly, looking back at him. “What the hell are you saying?” Vividly, he remembered shooting twin blasts into that other sabretooth’s mouth, but… “Do you want me to _attack_ you?”

Steve nodded. There was—there was something desperate in his eyes. Desperate and fearful and worried, and it made Tony’s heart ache. “Steve, no,” he said, cautiously reaching up to touch Steve’s head. “Is this because you feel like me getting hurt is your fault? It’s not. Really. And I’m okay. We’re both okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t be like this.”

A minute passed, and then Steve drew back, his mouth closing. “Thank God,” Tony breathed, relieved beyond belief as he let his hand drop. Jesus. Like he was actually ever going to go through with that! “Alright. Give me a moment—”

Before he could say anything more, though, Steve turned around and dashed away, vanishing into the foliage.

For a moment, Tony just stood there, completely frozen. What the hell had just happened? Steve had been here one second, and then in the next he’d just… run off. Why? Because Tony hadn’t agreed to _kill_ him? Because Steve thought if he stuck around, he was just going to hurt him again? Please. Tony had survived much worse. But _no_ , apparently, Steve just had to treat this as much worse than it actually was.

“Fuck,” he announced to the world, because now seemed as good as any to curse.

Grimacing, Tony slung both his and Steve’s packs onto his good shoulder, then picked up the shield, because he’d be damned if he was going to leave any of their stuff behind. Once he was ready to go, he took off, heading in Steve’s general direction—what else could he do? They’d come this far; Tony wasn’t going to abandon him now. But really, damn the man. _Damn him_. They’d been close, so close, with less than a day to go. And then Steve had to run off.

Slowly, the shadows started to lengthen, and still Tony couldn’t find Steve. There were signs he’d passed by, sure—a paw print here, a paw print there—but Steve himself remained elusive, and though Tony’s arm was throbbing, his heart was faring much worse.

Tony was scared. Just the idea of Steve somewhere out there, all alone as the sun set—it was enough to make his throat go dry, to make his chest constrict painfully. Because once that sun went down, and they weren’t at the top of that mountain, then based on Tony’s best guess, Steve was going to stay a sabretooth. Worse, Tony feared that he was going to stay an _actual_ sabretooth, the kind that wanted to claw Tony’s face off and possibly eat him.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So he kept on looking, ignoring the persistent ache in his arm and the way his heart was pounding in his throat, resolutely downing more aspirin. He’d find Steve, he told himself. He just—he’d find him.

By the time the sun dipped low into the sky, Steve was still missing, but Tony realized with a start that he was very much near the top now. He turned around, looking downward—and goodness, it was a good thing he didn’t fear heights, because seriously, he was high up.

Tony turned back, then looked up, and for the first time he realized that there was something up there. It looked like—it looked like another igloo-thing, maybe. Like the ones he’d seen in the underground city, but bigger. A giant igloo at the top of the mountain. Was this it? Was this where they were supposed to have wound up all along?

Maybe, he thought, just maybe, Steve was already in there.

Steeling himself, Tony dashed up the rest of the way, continuing to ignore the way the gashes in his arm and chest throbbed and ached. He’d deal with the injuries later. Only one thing mattered right now, and that was whether or not Steve was here, and if he wasn’t—if he wasn’t—

It didn’t bear thinking about.

Once he made it to the top, he burst into the igloo-thing, blinking and looking around. This one was different from the others. At the other end was a wide hole, like a window without glass, perfectly positioned so that he could see the setting sun through it. In the middle sat a pedestal with something that looked like—well, a glove, which made so little sense Tony decided not to spend too long dwelling on it. And there, lying in front of the pedestal…

“Steve!” he cried, running over to his side and placing a hand against his side, feeling coarse fur under his skin. “Steve, are you okay? God, you idiot, what did you run away for?”

Steve groaned and turned to look at him, and for a second Tony feared that this wasn’t _Steve_ , it was the mean sabretooth who wanted to eat him. But then their eyes met, and Tony’s worries melted away. This was Steve. He _knew_ it was Steve. “Hey,” he tried again. “You alright?”

A moment passed, and then Steve shook his head slowly, causing Tony’s heart to drop. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but it was actually pretty clear what was wrong. It was almost sunset. If something bad was going to happen to Steve, it was going to happen soon.

Right. Shit. He needed to—to _what_? Belatedly, he realized he had no idea what they were supposed to do once they got here. A part of him had hoped that they’d haul their asses up here and then everything would be magically okay, but thinking about it, of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. It never was.

“Okay,” Tony said, because he didn’t know what else to do other than say useless words. “Steve. Just—just hang on for a moment longer. I’m going to fix this, alright? I promise.” He looked out the window, at the sun that was still steadily sinking under the horizon. He was running out of time.

Tony reached out, giving Steve’s head one more pat, then straightened to examine the pedestal. It looked like the one from the big igloo in the underground city, but larger and missing the sabretooth drawings. And unlike the other one, this one had not a gem, but a golden glove, its palm facing him. The image of the hand looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it at the moment. Could he wish on the glove? God, it sounded so stupid, but it had worked on the gem, hadn’t it? He’d wished on it, and things had come true. Not in the best of ways, but it’d worked.

He swallowed, reaching forward to touch the glove. “So, uh,” he said awkwardly. “If you could change my friend Steve back into a human, that would be really great. Thanks for your consideration?”

Steve made a faint choking sound from behind him, and Tony quickly turned back, kneeling beside him again. “Steve?” he repeated. Was something happening? Did it work? Never mind the fact that magic was a total crapshoot—Tony was a genius. It had to have worked.

But Steve wasn’t changing back. Tony took a deep breath, reaching out to touch one of Steve’s limbs and trying to reassure himself that this was okay. After all, it hadn’t been immediate last time, either. So he could wait.

And yet—Steve whined suddenly, his body twitching, and Tony jumped backwards from the sudden movement. “Steve,” he said yet again, meeting his eyes, those wonderfully blue Boy Scout eyes of his—but then something changed, and that _glint_ appeared in them again, that feral wildness that Tony had started to associate with bared teeth and extended claws. “No,” he whispered, taking another step backward as he felt fear bubble up in him, seeing the last of the sunlight reflect in his eyes and finding it anything but beautiful. “Steve—Steve, no. This isn’t supposed to happen. _We made it_. We’re here. You’re not supposed to stay like this.”

He bumped into the pedestal, turning in time to see the golden glove wobble and fall to the floor. Steve’s gaze followed him, and he automatically brought the shield up in response—but somehow, this time Tony wasn’t surprised when it didn’t seem to put him in his right mind again, though it at least seemed to keep him at bay. How long did he have left? Just minutes, surely. Just minutes to figure this out. Just minutes to save Steve’s life.

Not wanting to startle Steve, he crouched down slowly, picking the glove up and turning it in his free hand. Up close like this, it was clear that it wasn’t just a regular glove, but a metallic gauntlet, studded with gems.

One of them was missing.

Breath catching, Tony set the gauntlet down, then reached up to unbutton his shirt, looking at the gem embedded in his chest. This… this was it, he was pretty sure. This was the missing gem. If he took it out of himself and put it in the gauntlet, then it would work. He _knew_ it would work. It was the only thing that made sense.

Of course, if he took it out of himself, he’d be in for a world of pain at the very _least_ , based on that one time he’d plucked it out just to see what would happen. Hell, he’d probably have a heart attack and die. And wasn’t it a shame that he’d worked so hard for so long to find a way to cure himself, only to undo everything just to return Steve to the status quo?

But it didn’t matter. None of that mattered. The only reason they were even in this situation in the first place was because Tony had fucked things up, and if the only way to fix things before they ran out of time was for him to fuck _himself_ up, well, that seemed as good a price to pay as any. After all, their country was recovering from a war. They needed someone like Captain America, like Steve, to guide them. But Tony? He’d done his part. He could—he could rest easy.

“Sorry, Steve,” he said, taking a deep breath and resting his fingers against the gem in his chest. “But you’re much more important to the world than Iron Man.” And he pulled the gem out.

The pain was immediate. His whole body seemed to shudder, and suddenly breathing was much harder than it should be. Still, he managed to grab hold of the gauntlet, pressing the gem into the empty indentation with shaking hands and watching as the whole thing lit up. Then he turned back to look at Steve, who was still regarding him with shining eyes as the last of the sun disappeared from view.

But as much as Tony wanted to stay awake, stay _alive_ , just to make sure that Steve was going to be okay, his body, apparently, was having none of that. He found himself involuntarily collapsing onto the floor, the gauntlet slipping from his limp fingers as his vision went black around the edges.

This was probably the end, but for some reason, all Tony could think about was extending his pinky finger to Steve and swearing to him that he wouldn’t drop dead. That was a stupid promise, he thought to himself. Steve was going to be so disappointed once he went back to normal.

And then everything went dark.

**Day Seven**

_I’m alive._

The morning air was cool as consciousness filtered back to Tony, causing him to curl up a little into himself, shivering. God, what had happened last night? Tony—Tony recalled some things, dimly. Bad things. Things about broken promises and glinting eyes and dying. Things that, upon second thought, were better left forgotten.

But he wasn’t dead, from what he could tell. If his senses could be believed, he was still lying on a stone floor in an igloo-thing at the top of a mountain, covered by a blanket of cold air. That was probably good, he thought, even if all his limbs felt like jelly.

Then he remembered. There was a reason he’d had to go through all of last night’s bullshit. A reason he’d broken a promise and dropped dead, kind of. A very, very good reason.

_Steve_ …

Groaning, he forced himself to open his eyes, looking around. As he’d thought, he was still where he’d collapsed last night. The pedestal was right in front of him, though the gauntlet wasn’t in his line of vision, which was admittedly limited because he couldn’t bring himself to move any of his limbs right now. But if he focused just a little, turning his head ever so slightly to make out that thing in his peripheral vision—

It was a paw.

“Oh, God,” he croaked, immediately squeezing his eyes shut again and looking away. No. This wasn’t happening. He’d been good, he thought. He’d done everything right. He’d put the gem back where it belonged. He’d been willing to put himself on the line to save Steve. Apparently, though, that hadn’t been enough, and now it was too late. Steve was gone, and Tony would have to live with what he’d done for the rest of his life.

Was Steve even still alive? Tony could get up and look, but he was too afraid, too ashamed to do so. Because even if Steve was, what then? He was still a sabretooth. Either Steve’s mind was still trapped in that body, or, even worse—and more plausibly, given his recent behavior—everything that Steve had been was gone now, and there was nothing left but a ferocious, wild cat. And if _that_ was alive, it didn’t even matter. Because the Steve he’d come to know, even come to care for a little—he was dead.

Tony had killed him.

He laid there for several minutes, the room silent around him save for his own quickening breaths as he struggled to come to terms with exactly what he’d done. Faintly, he was aware that today was the last day on which Fury’s airship would come looking for them, and that he was wasting time wallowing here in his own self-pity and shame and anger. He should probably move, he thought. But he didn’t.

Finally, though, he forced himself to open his eyes again, gaze landing once more on the paw just barely in his field of vision. Even if he didn’t go anywhere, even if Steve-as-a-sabretooth was still alive and interested in eating him, he just… he had to say something. So slowly, he reached out, laying one hand lightly against the paw, fearing he’d wake him up but needing to make some sort of contact, and then he let his eyes flutter shut once more, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” he said.

He thought about the arguments they’d had the first few days after they’d landed, of the way they’d sniped and snarked at each other, and then he thought about his heart, beating steadily now in his chest, seemingly cured of whatever illness had stricken it. Then he thought again of Steve, of the way he’d looked at Tony as he told him about what had happened to his heart, and of the way he’d wrapped his arm around him and held him close. At some point, Steve had crossed the line from _irritating super soldier_ to _friend_. And now, to have lost him, to just as well have Steve’s blood on his hands, to have paid the cost of a working heart with Steve’s life…

Blindly, he scooted closer to the paw, leaning forward to press his lips against it, the barest brush of skin against fur, and he whispered—“It wasn’t worth it.”

“What wasn’t worth it?”

Tony gasped, eyes snapping open as he jolted backward, bumping his head against the pedestal and cursing softly in pain. For a moment, he could see nothing but a dizzying array of colors, but then things settled a little, and he could make out the sabretooth, which was… moving? Had it just spoke?

He groaned, putting his hands over his eyes and waiting for the dizziness to pass. Maybe the trauma of killing Steve had driven him crazy, because he was pretty sure sabretooths didn’t talk with Steve’s voice in real life.

“Tony, calm down, you’re hurting yourself.” Before he knew it, there were hands—human hands—wrapping around his wrists and gently pulling them away, but Tony kept his eyes shut, afraid of what he’d see. He didn’t want to hallucinate a dead Steve. Better to just—to just try and ignore it.

But the hallucination, apparently, was persistent, because it spoke again. “Tony. Open your eyes.”

Damn it. He wanted to pretend he didn’t hear it, because chances were good that his brain was just torturing him at this point, but it was Steve’s voice, and he couldn’t ignore what he was saying.

So slowly, he opened his eyes, waiting for his vision to sharpen.

It was Steve. Human Steve, his hair a golden halo around him as he was lit by the rising sun from behind, blue eyes shining. He was, as far as Tony could tell, completely naked, but the furry pelt draped over his back kept Tony from being certain.

Tony blinked, his eyes following the pelt down to a limp-looking paw, then went back up to Steve. “Oh,” he said.

Steve blinked back at him in turn, breaking into a wide, dazzling smile, and Tony felt himself go dizzy again. “‘Oh’?” he repeated. “You successfully turned me back, and that’s all you have to say? ‘Oh’?”

“I’m still trying to decide whether I’m imagining you or not,” Tony replied. “I—here, give me a moment.” And before he could think twice about it, he leaned forward, kissing Steve full on the lips.

Yeah. Definitely real.

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted. Steve wasn’t kissing back, not really, but he wasn’t pulling away either, so Tony felt no need to cut it off prematurely. Still, he did eventually need to breathe, so he pulled back, gazing at him as his brain fought to catch up, reminding him of all the reasons why that had been a supremely stupid idea. You weren’t supposed to just go around kissing your friends on the lips, especially not your guy friends if you yourself were a guy, because that just led to all sorts of trouble, and _especially_ not when you were acting completely on impulse, just so damn glad to see him alive again that kissing was the only thing you could think to do.

Okay, time for excuses. Tony cleared his throat, trying to seem casual, and said, “I mentioned I’m hallucinating, right? Pretty out of it. I hit my head, you see. I wouldn’t put much stock in anything I’m doing right now, really.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look dazed, apparently—very slowly, he lifted one hand up, pressing his fingers to his lips as his gaze met Tony’s. “Oh,” he said at last.

Tony snorted. “Didn’t you just give me crap for saying ‘oh’?” he asked, since Steve didn’t look like he was going to punch Tony in the face anytime soon. “Come on, give me something here.” 

Steve blinked at him again, then gave him a tentative smile. That was good. “We’re going to have to talk about this later,” he said. Less good, but okay. He then looked down at himself, prodding at the pelt hanging off him. “Is this… was this my skin?”

“Markings look familiar,” Tony said, gladly latching onto the new topic and making out the pattern of stripes he’d committed to memory after that one time he’d realized he couldn’t distinguish Steve from other sabretooths. “Sorry, but that’s gross.”

“Not arguing,” Steve said, climbing to his feet, and wow, _hello_. He awkwardly adjusted the pelt around his body, then looked down at Tony, offering his hand. “Please tell me you have clothes for me.”

Tony blinked, tearing his eyes away from… more interesting parts, and took Steve’s hand, managing to stand up as well. “Yeah,” he said, letting go to rummage around in Steve’s pack, bringing out a shirt and pants a moment later and holding them out to him.

Steve accepted the clothes gratefully, turning away to pull them on. “So,” he said, his back to Tony. “Unless I completely lost track of time, we have to be someplace by noon today. You know. Unless you want to stay here for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah,” Tony said again. He grinned, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Getting back home was nothing compared to what he’d feared had happened to Steve. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.” He reached into his own pack, thankful that he’d gone through the trouble of lugging everything with him, even after Steve had run off. “Remember those fireworks you saw earlier? The ones you looked like you wanted to nag me about?”

Steve stared at him, though the gravity he was trying to project was somewhat lost due to the sabretooth pelt that was still draped off his shoulders. “You’re kidding. Tony, it’s the middle of the day. No one’s going to be able to see fireworks.”

“Please,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “Steve, I’m a genius who likes attention and flashing things. You think I can’t design some fireworks that’ll catch eyes no matter how much sun there is? Grab your stuff and follow me.”

An hour later, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s airship was heading their way to pick them up, and then—at long last—they were going home.

**Epilogue**

“So,” Tony said by way of greeting as he slid into Steve’s sleeping quarters, since the door was open and really, he should have closed it if he didn’t want visitors. “I see you still have your charming pelt there. Any plans for it?”

Steve glanced up in surprise, but he smiled when he saw who it was, setting down his notepad. “Hi,” he said, before his gaze dropped down to look at the pelt draped over one chair. “I don’t know. I was thinking of tacking it up on my wall at home, but I’m kind of afraid it would come to life in the middle of the night and try to eat me.”

“You’d be able to fight it off,” Tony assured him, sitting down on the bed beside him. Since they’d been retrieved by the airship, they hadn’t had much time to talk—Fury and other higher-ups had been hounding them for information since they boarded, and while Steve was happy to share, Tony was less so. Besides which, he’d had to suffer through various medical staff poking and prodding at the gashes on his arm and chest, despite him telling them that honestly, it was _nothing_ , and hadn’t they ever been scratched by a sabretooth before? Really.

But now they were both free, and strangely enough, despite spending the past extremely harrowing week with no one but Steve, Tony found himself missing his company. It was hard to really articulate why. Maybe part of it boiled down to having shared an experience with him that he’d never shared, and never would share, with anyone else. Maybe another part of it was how fearless Steve was around him, how he’d seen Tony’s weaknesses and didn’t think any less of him, still drawing his face and labeling him as _hero_. And maybe yet another part had something to do with the fact that okay, yeah, Steve was very, very nice to look at.

On second thought, maybe it wasn’t so strange Tony had missed him after all.

“I’m honored you think so,” Steve said with a small smile as he picked up his shield, starting to polish it. Tony raised an eyebrow. It already looked very shiny. “Anyway, I’m glad you came. I wanted to ask you…” His gaze slid sideways, to Tony’s chest, even as he continued to polish away. “How’s your heart doing?”

“My heart?” Automatically, Tony lifted a hand, placing it over his chest. He hadn’t discussed what had happened with it, not with Steve, not with Fury, not with anyone. Fury, he suspected, would probably find out what happened sooner or later. But Tony would make him work for it. Steve, though… he could tell Steve. “It’s fine.”

Steve blinked and went silent for a moment, like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. “What do you mean, it’s fine?” he asked at last.

“I mean it’s _fine_.” Tony reached up, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt to reveal his chest, gauze covering the scratches from the first sabretooth fight, but otherwise missing the metal plate and charge percentage and everything else. It was like Wong-Chu never happened, which was, honestly, quite surprising because he was completely expecting to die, or at least have that first bit of magic be undone up in that igloo-thing on the mountain. “There’s probably a moral in here somewhere. Save a life, have your own life saved for free? You know, that’s a great marketing tactic. Someone should try that. People like free things.”

“Uh huh,” Steve said with a little smile, setting his shield aside as well. “Well, I’m happy for you, Tony. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d come back to myself and seen you dead.” His mouth set, and he turned on Tony with a glare. “You broke your pinky promise.”

“I did _not_ ,” Tony protested, because ouch, that glare could hurt people. “If I had, I wouldn’t be here right now, would I?”

Steve still didn’t look entirely pleased, though the glare softened, at least. Tony sighed in relief. “Well, you had intent to break your promise. That’s almost just as bad.”

“But not exactly just as bad,” Tony replied, clapping him on the back. “Semantics is everything. Relax, Steve. I’m alive and you are refreshingly human. We should be celebrating, really. Know if this airship has a bar?”

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes. “I don’t like alcohol,” he said. Why was this not surprising? “Anyway, there was something else I wanted to talk about.”

“Go for it.”

“You kissed me.”

Oh. Right. Okay, so Tony had been hoping that Steve had forgotten about that, because he himself really just had no idea what was going on there. But he supposed a national war hero who went by the name of Captain America _probably_ didn’t get that way because he had a poor memory. “I sure did,” he replied at last. “Problem?”

“Not really,” Steve said, and if Tony had been drinking something, he was pretty sure he would have spit it out. “Though we’ve only known each other for about a week.”

“It was a _long_ week,” Tony felt compelled to add. “Really, really long.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, and there was that little smile again. What was going on? Tony was confused. Fine, yes, he’d thought Steve was an extraordinarily handsome man for some time, and then they’d become friends and things had happened. But he wasn’t really sure what he himself wanted, much less what Steve did. “I do like you, Tony.”

Tony nodded dazedly, because he was still kind of confused. “Uh, thanks? Right back at you.”

Steve regarded him for a moment in silence, tilting his head contemplatively. “I was waiting for you to try passing it off as you hallucinating again,” he said eventually, and oh yeah, that was what Tony should have done. Damn. “But you didn’t. So.” Steve leaned forward, kissing him on the forehead, leaving Tony sitting there wide-eyed and blinking. “I don’t want to move too fast. And America needs our help. Come back to New York with me?”

Tony could have pointed out that he was already based in New York, so going there was basically going home and he didn’t need Steve’s invitation. “Okay,” was what he ended up saying anyway.

“Great,” Steve replied, and once again his smile seemed to brighten the whole room. “By the way, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I lied. I’m still a big fan of _Marvels_.”

Tony grinned at that, reaching forward to flick a stray hair out of Steve’s face and watching his big blue eyes light up in surprise. “Is that so?” he asked. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

He’d started off the week looking for a cure for his broken heart. And now, he thought, sitting here next to a war hero, a super soldier, a military man—now he thought that maybe he’d really found it.


End file.
